Let's swim in the deep water.
We were alone apart from a man in the shade of a tree where he parked his rickety motorbike. There were some fishermen in the bangka on the other side of the dock.
SANTA CRUZ BY VARTAN KOUMROUYAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 142 PREVIEW
Let’s go to Santa Cruz, Sheryll said one Saturday.The early morning air was still fresh, holding the night’s crisp edge of the canopy acquired with the absence of the sunlight peeping from behind the Palkata tree. At eight the heat would be unbearable with the sun already at the level of the Apintong tree, pounding mercilessly, and we would have to remain indoors all day.
“Let’s swim in the deep water,” she said, to finish her idea.
It surprised me because I didn’t know her to have a poetic feeling of any sort. The line sounded like Nietzsche in Zarathustra or from a Joni Mitchell song, both of whom she knew nothing about or even cared.