May 23, 2024

La Manga smells of shit

Two seas.

One deep blue, white crested waves rolling in, the other lake like calm, stagnating.

Wherever you wander, the waft of sweet sun baked excrement, tickling your insides.

Plastic bottles of water bought to you in a truck from Mercadona.

A plane flies overhead advertising LIDL.

Swimming pools.

Parties of twenty and thirty somethings jet ski, and ride high speed yachts and boats.

Like the shit in the sewer, cars clog up the one road that runs through La Manga, as well as the side streets and parking spaces.

At night squadrons of mosquitos attack, terrorising with their screams, and giving us raging itches.

Walking through the haze of or own shit, covered in swellings and puss, we squeeze through tiny spaces left by the cars we’ve parked.

We tan, we are mesmerised by the sea, we are mesmerised by the two seas.


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