lifts you up

Tuesday, August the 23rd

perched before the tide, on fine sand, blonde like the mats whose strings hoisted them lightly concordant with the sun in the South China Sea, on this afternoon and this island where it was happening, the barbeque began to rustle, the air rose, the concrete kept its amusement to itself, flat beneath the chef's weight, strewn with cotton about its pillars, our pavillion accomodated the light breaths that remained with all the people who had flown to be here.