The name’s Sugar. And I don’t appreciate the jokes, so don’t bother. Someone like you living in a place like this – all that water. I’m not the dissolving type, that’s all I’ll say.
You’ll have seen the place I live, just off the shore. It’s a boat, except it’s not going anywhere. They don’t like us being here; figure they think the place spoils the view, but the fact is we own this bit of land, this rectangle on the bottom of the river where the sliced metal of the hull sits. We own it ‘in perpetuity’. It’s a word I like the sound of.
Wherever you stand you can hear the water. It’s like the river’s breathing. Sometimes I’ll sit, especially when it’s dark and you can see the buildings on the other side like a tapestry of lights, and I listen for words in the water. Wish. Kiss. Miss.
What do I love about the place, you ask. Why am I here, you ask. Because of the water. Because my eyes can stretch further than a wall or the block of a body in front of me. You’ve met people who live by the sea. Haven’t you noticed there’s a stillness at the centre of them? It is something to do with the distance. It is something to do with the sky.
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