The happy place

One time when I was running slowly around a pond by the camping one evening, there was a boat by the dock with the diving tower, dredging for a corpse.

The next day, young children and grown ups were swimming in there as usual, with their colourful bathing suits on, or just having a wonderful time at the sun lit beach, casually sunbathing or drinking slush from the kiosk by the tall pine trees nearby.

Happy children or adults with giant bellies back flipping off the diving tower, then returning to surface, but this boy didn’t.

Imagine having survived fleeing from war and poverty, the hazardous boat trip across the Mediterranean Sea, only to drown in this way..

And that I just jogged past this boat like it was just another day as any other, because it was.