In this place, at this time of day, you are the anomaly. Everything around you is dry, dry as dry can be, dry as deadpan humour, dry as a dead pan. But you — you are wet. Your forehead is wet and your armpits. The backs of your knees. It’s running down your temples and making your arms shimmer.
© All words and photographs belong to me, Cassidy Parker. Website engineered by Web Dexterity.