The pale, soaked, and wrinkled fingers,

Sunshine lights and burns my back,

Then there is the fire of salt hills.

Thin strands of hair dance on my shoulders,

Performing their tickly and malicious act.

Breathe in and breathe out,

I feel the corals living in my lungs,

Absorbing the last dose of oxygen.

Now, the deeper I dive,

The more I feel alive.

And the deeper I dive,

The less I breathe.

      They see a body floating on the surface.