Red Dusk Print

On an island, upon debarking from a flat bed boat, one is met or was then met by this red ghost still waiting to pick up people for a short haul along the narrow dust road going over the side hill of that narrow island, still holding within its grassy folds, a few big families, like 13 kids aligned along the many clothes lines hung from their smallish houses. Weird above all, upon being there when one house would literally disgorge the whole brood, as a real story line coming out of an outstanding woman whom would be the last out of their dwelling, each going towards that day's however small task assigned to each. Survival was their life's theme, and for each perceived through a very deep intuitive motivation, no time for cheapish quarrelling, for within a survival bubble, daytime's length is of the utmost importance to each member whatever her or his intimate secrete self-awareness, the being alive element.