Cobwebbed seeds clinging to the tops of my shoes.

A marten loping through the long grass.

Distant kites soaring over fish scale thermals. Below them diesel engines putter and whine as the daily catch is brought in.

The creep of summer heat. Moisture fills the air— walking feels closer to swimming on the muggiest of days.

Less then forty days until departure from the island. Emerald waters and roves of time.