the ceiling fan whirs. a gecko barks from the corner of the room. the air is thick and heavy. shadows from palm trees dance on the walls. the sticky sweaty baby sleeps on my chest. his skin is salty from a morning at the beach. i peel him off and place him in the cot. a light breeze passes through the louvred windows. the cyclone shutters are raised and propped open. there's the smell of frangipani in the air. an open book is by my side. my shoulders are pink from the sun. red dirt is ingrained in the soles of my feet. it coats everything. there is nowhere to be. nothing to do. i feel relaxed and rested. right to my very core.