SPILL

Gush, torrent, swirl and pull. Where others see beauty, healing and the like, there is only violence and dread for me. A body lost amongst the gnashing teeth beneath the waves that roll out, heavy, violent. Push, pull. Push, pull. A liquid battleground that leaves soldiers lying smashed and broken on the sand. The clarity of the waeter makes my guts heave. I measure the depth by how many times a person could drown before they reach the surface. Given they survive the ruinous wash, they are yet to contend with the others. True residents of the deep – a world sepearte and outcast from the one we know. There are no alliances, no no forgiveness, no warmth. The law of the sea is one much harsher than that of the jungle.

SCRUB

Gush, torrent, swirl and pull. You see clarity, healing and beauty: serene and stark. I watch the violence, hear the hunger and feel dread in the pit of my stomach. Faceless bodies float and tumble, lost amongst the jagged row of teeth barely concealed beneath the swollen wash.
Push, pull.
Push, pull.
A squalid battleground: soldiers left lying, smashed and broken on the sand. Clear days are worse – the depth makes my guts heave. I measure the distance; there you could drown; and there again; and just here, yet to break the surface.
Survive the squalid chaos, and you still have the true residents of the deep to contend with. A wild place yet to be broken, colonised, organised. Separate and outcast, the natives keep no alliances, do not forgive and are as cold and harsh as their clime. The Law of the Sea stands alone.