The bay is where boats would have come in to dock when they arrived at the island. The first thing they would have seen is a large ‘Welcome’ sign painted in rainbow colours. There is a thin strip of seaweed-covered sand running the length of the bay that acts as as the ‘beach’ area, although it was rarely used when compared to the larger beach on the island.
The unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in complete darkness, as if to casually remind the outside world, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. [Day 4, Oneshot]
The desire to be struck by disaster—to survive a plane crash, to lose everything in a fire, to plunge over a waterfall—which would put a kink in the smooth arc of your life, and forge it into something hardened and flexible and sharp, not just a stiff prefabricated beam that barely covers the gap between one end of your life and the other. (private)
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