There’s no breeze today. I’m not sure if that helps keep the fire from spreading across the three mountains of trash, but it’s good for me: I made it to the ocean. I had an intense allergic reaction a couple of weeks ago and decided I’d stop going to Spratt Bight beach, where various sewage systems from the hotel area drain. I got sick of the tourists and vendors offering coconuts, cocktails, braids, massages, jet ski rides, tours, jewellery and big black cocks. I got sick of the residents nosing around every part of your life. Here, on the other side, on the small cement platform I jumped off, there are several used rubbers, wads of paper and a wrinkled sanitary napkin. It smells like boozy piss boiled in the sun. There are countless beer cans and bottles swarmed by tiny mosquitos, cartons of guaro liquor, abandoned on the steps, scattered around the trees – a broad radius. I had to hold my breath to keep from gagging. I don’t want to be like everyone else, but I can’t help but curse people. I’m getting out of here, I’m leaving, I thought. But then I looked out over the ocean, enormous and pure, with all its colourful little fish. I’m here, I’ve already made it all this way – how could I resist?

As soon as I saw that there was no wind to shake the banana fronds against the fence today, I leapt out of bed, excited to return. I passed the sensor over my arm, gave myself my injection and had a bite to eat; within half an hour, I’d reached kilometre ten. I rode with a sense of urgency. I wanted to see the smoke after I passed the landing strip, and here I can see it again through the dry foliage of the almond and mombin trees. I wouldn’t be shocked if I heard a sudden explosion and we were plunged into a health emergency. When I arrived, I took the sensor out of my purse and checked my blood sugar levels after all that pedalling. I’m at 103: good. I opened a bottle of juice: ten grams of sugar. I swapped out my sports bra for a bikini, hoping no one was watching, and took my snorkel and fins out of the basket. The downside of a breezeless day, when you can pedal faster, is that you roast to death. Chaining my bike to a palm tree, I threw myself into the water without looking both ways: jump! I startled some tiny fish as they swam close to the surface. The cool ocean embraces me as I swim and swim and keep swimming, seeking shelter.