Foam churns in the wake of the ferry. The city recedes to the size of Legos. I lean back and feel the wind coast over me. The water is deep and glistening.
From between the rocks, the water whispers.
Sunflowers, leaning out of buckets, press their faces to a bright window.
Most of the homes have porches half-screened by flowers and leafy branches.
I'm walking in a world of pastel colors: pink doors, seashells, light blue skies, flowers enfolding fences and homes.
In a dimly lit room with dusky, rose-colored walls and no TV, I press bandaids onto my blisters and settle back in bed with a novel.
The famine memorial is spread out in the foreground. Behind it, a glass-fronted convenience store displays large cutouts of a spoon and fork.