After the Land of the Satyrs. by Jella-bella, literature
Literature
After the Land of the Satyrs.
I wish I were still over there.
Back in the heat which I despise, the odd multi-coloured houses constantly in a losing battle with the unrelenting humidity.
Back in an environment where the future of the environment itself is dire.
Back mindlessly scrubbing off mould and shit and piss from the walls, the floor, the ceiling, while intermittently dodging a swift slap, a sly grab, an opportunistic bite.
Running through the drowning rain that soaks you worse than jumping into a pool fully clothed ever could.
Mixing, cutting, lugging, slashing, hammering under the sun that boils the very air and robs you of every mil of water you ever thought
