"Where did you get those bruises?" "Which ones ?" he smiles. "The ones on your hands?" "That one's a long story." He starts to retreats into himself a little, no longer making eye contact with us. "I've got time." The boy looks back up at me with water in his eyes. "Listen, it was recent and I don't really want to talk about it."
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Like sand and sea, water and blood twine about one another. Drink it. Taste it. Seventy percent of your body came from the sea. Take her in. Let her become you and you she. (Untitled by Kyle Thompson, via