Choking from the tree pollen and the blanket of smog that had blown in from across the sea and the dust that had risen from the roads after the fires of the previous week. The atmosphere was unbreathable. Slowly jogging through the drag of streets from west to east was a chore for the chest. The sky was cloudless, but all the towers and cranes in the distance took on a muddy, sepia colour. It was a sense of desaturation, a fading, that was at odds with the coarse, thick reality of the air. The town was suffocating under itself.
I waded to the middle of the river and was swept along, searching, searching. I was high in the air but tumbling downward trying to catch you. I stared at the screen until my eyes were dry and sore. I ran down the street pushing past shoppers, over and over. I shouted, screamed, shouted. I turned the key in the lock but the lock fell to the ground so I picked it up and it fell to the ground again and again. Every time I asked for peace a clock clanged the hour. Every time I saw you I awoke.