It is cold in January, and it is dark. Darkness consumes everything; the sky never opening up, and the sound of waves and the heat of sun so far away it is as if they never existed. People walk around sniffing with sore throats and colds. The sky is so dark it is sleeping.
I am looking forwards to leaving this country again. However much I try, despite the good people and the good times, I do not feel alive without the sun. It is like being buried underground in a constant underground party; but, still, it is not sunlight.
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