Light kills searching for all the little details on the rocks. When it's dim, I've felt I could see something else and that belief had constituted a sense of truth. A raw sensation that faith is based on, Only when the light goes up, it disappears, a bare texture lays flat on the wall. A fugitive nuance that had been toiling in my mind ever since. When I saw Sara, her round shoulders flatten, a movement that I detect in the dark. With the neon lights outside I almost wonder if we had achieved some prized darkness. That some erotic sensation was concealed here as the bright pink signs wink away into the street.  

When I go out at 5pm, the sun plunges into the ocean. Ghostly neon blossoms into the night cleaning the shards of stars leaving only a blank slate, electronic hum. The buildings pallid like junkies blushing of colourful phosphorus. The night market's wares sometimes has a scar of white light reflecting off surfaces. Almost television static pure. No images come to mind but the reflection just under the shine.