The viewfinder on my camera focuses in, then slightly out. Framed: One cat, scrawny with sparse hairs matted in dirt, crouched on a heaping pile of old papers, rotting fruits, discarded potato chip bags. It’s bitty feet slip between the broken seals of old bottles, its tail drips from an unidentified goo. The cat sits unaffected by the gnats and flies that flick it’s whiskers and then -snap- a moment is captured as it takes a bite from a twisted moldy loaf of bread. I examine

I am on my side, burrowed deep into the doughy sand, my eyes adjusting to the strange world around me that has only just come into focus after the darkness of slumber. The air that wafts from the sea is cool, and the loud silence that pierces through the rip of the waves acknowledges that I am, indeed, happily alone here. Though my perspective is somewhat askew, so deep in my den, I can see that the sky remains dreary. Light drops pop against my skin, perhaps an ill-received