Slices of Life: Singing Factory & Shallow Water
I’m wading in knee high dark water pulling the boat after me when the factory sings out again across the strait. A flute-like mechanical sound, vaguely melodic, but not quite. Like someone had sampled a gale whistling in the structures of an abandoned factory, and played an atonal melody with it while throwing in a bit of vox humana. I stop to listen.
Slices of Life: Seawater the Colour of Lapsang Souchong
The boat is full to the brim with gear. Tanks, boxes, backpacks, dive gear, four people. There’s barely room for one person to stand on the actual boat deck without standing on some piece of gear or other. I’m sitting on the back bench, struggling to bow down low enough to get my fin on my feet. The driver grabs the fin and starts helping them on, her red hair falling from under her inca wool cap. No need to do everything by yourself, this is work diving – ask for help.
Slices of Life: Two Backpacks and a Trolley Case
I watched her car drive down the street and turn out of sight, then tugged my trolley bag and went to search the correct entrance to my accommodation for the night. It was one of those houses where one of the entrances was illogically on a crossing street, which took a while to figure out. I did very little but dump my luggage in and exchange a few words with my hosts before heading back out.