Every time that I have to come here, it’s always the burning stench of the salt that rewinds my mind, sending me back into the innermost, self-destructive corners that I’ve ever known. Still they rest within me to this day, in waiting behind every little trigger that comes to pass through my senses.

Travelling high above the rough waves, from the scaled seats of the “Gailer'', I watch the golden-white spires, poking out of the sea, like a mirage of beautifully luscious limestone trees in the desert. The rest of the crew lean in on the small table like birds to crumbs, playing cards while talking about women. Our contractor Bila sits directly across from me, a slick salesman type, pleasant enough, but ugly with falseness. I silently wonder to myself; what will the wealthy want this time? Intricate gold lace details to match the floor and ceiling? Another fish tank in an entranceway? Perhaps a fucking bon-bon dispenser for the social room? That last thought made me audibly chuckle a little actually, it is important to find some small amount of joy, even in the most miserable of times, or so I believe.

I know that I am a hopeless, self-loathing cynic. It would do me good to mentally acclimate to the societal norms around me, rather than simply pretending to go along with them... But what chance do I have with such keen self awareness? Eternal conflict with the world in my own little depraved way is the only fate that I can see for myself.

(The Gailer lands at a modern terminal and the crew are then shuttled to the home of the client)

As we enter through the rather modestly sized dark wood door (rare for this region mind you) we step into an idyllic entranceway, quite like that of a fantasy book! Filled with brilliant floor patterns and creative lighting solutions, lining the walls are actually some rather tasteful paintings, as well as family portraits, fascinating looking historical artefacts, beautifully chosen local wildflowers and potpourri of moody tones - burgundy, coco, and indigo. Butlers stand ready at every doorway, and several others quickly take our tools from us, rushing on ahead as we come to an open welcome room of sorts. What almost appears to be a chandelier hangs from the ceiling, but as I examine it I notice that it is another wooden detail, all one, perfect piece even. Rather magnificently it stretches across our heads like giant antlers. Interrupted in our stare we are suddenly addressed by the most elegantly enchanting woman, she glides across the room wearing a deep green, velvet-like, full length-sleeved dress, and a headpiece to match.

‘Aha good morning men! My saviours and sculptors of many talents! Welcome! Please make yourselves as comfortable as you like.’

She greets us with her young daughter in hand, making quick-witted work of Bila:

‘Absolutely fabulous home Mrs Vilkar! I’m Bila, we spoke in the letters, you really know how to-’

‘Please, my name is Sari. Fine gentlemen of modern architecture and labour, there is no need for social hierarchical manners or any such other absurd regulations that you may know from your inner city lives. My home is a place of unsealed mouths and ears without prejudices. In other words men, fuck the sweet talk and kindness, tell me what you think, I have no cage nor trap door to a dungeon of which to throw you in for speaking your mind ha-ha.’

Her confident smirk felt magnetic to me, I couldn’t help but immediately lower my defences to her charm.

‘Ah of course thank you’

‘Anyway this is my daughter Krisna, introduce yourself to our guests my dear girl.’

The little girl lets go of her mother's hand and curtseys in the direction of the crew, they all simultaneously smile and ooh at her. Riding on the crowd's admiration she then pirouettes sweetly, some men even clap in response.

‘Awww haha wow’

‘Ok darling look at you, such a show off, what will I do with you huh? Haha come with me now boys, I will show you what we are doing today, up the staircase!’

We quickly follow Sari and Krisna up their polished wooden stairway, wide enough for two people comfortably, three with little room to spare. She opens a door to a flat roof, an outdoor entertaining area, with seating, vegetation, and a view of the equally towering white structures, we can immediately hear the ocean below and I admit that I forgot how high up her home was.

Habitually scanning my surroundings I notice a floating corpse in the small, ground level pool across the roof. His arms are lying out of it as if he may have tried to drag himself away from his own scene. There are red streaks in the water, blood seeping down from a short blade sticking out of the centre of his back. There is blood on the ground too, footprints leading away from the pool. I shake myself out of the trance and continue assessing the situation. A subtle flicker, but just enough to capture my eye - from behind the decorative railing I see black hair move with the wind.

‘So gentlemen what we will be doing up here on the roof is laying out the groundwork and display area for a statue of my own design, Bila you have the ideas that I sent you?’

‘Indeed I do right here - um...’

Bila stares blankly through Sari, growing visibly more pale in the face with every second that passes.

‘What is it Bila? Are you ill?’

‘Sari there appears to be a man in the pool behind you’

As everyone slowly realises the current circumstance I use the opportunity given by this distraction to make my way over to where I saw the black hair. Sari turns swiftly to face the crime scene, with fear and purpose in her body language.

‘Husband is that you?!’

The crew stands lifelessly for a moment, still in shock as Sari runs to the body.

‘Dakhan! Oh Dakhan! No no no’

I cautiously approach who I now see is a young naked woman. There are scars up and down her body like a veteran warrior, she is just sitting there upon the railing on the edge of the roof, looking out over the ocean somberly.

‘Who are you? Did you kill this man?’

Sari cries out - on the brink of hysteria.

‘Who did this to you!? Dakhan! Why? Why?’

Sari has her wet husband in her arms, half dragged out of the pool.

It is like she is in another world, she shows no signs of a reaction to my questions, and the commotion on this roof does not seem to have stirred her even in the slightest.

‘Mumma? Why are you sad?’

Before Krisna can go to her mother the men help usher her back inside of the house, to the care of the butlers.

‘Hey maybe I can help you? What was your intention here? I can see that you are young, did he hurt you?’

Finally acknowledging me she mockingly smirks and I see her face fully for the first time. She is quite beautiful, and definitely young, but her eyes are dark and sunken like someone who has suffered a long life.

Bila and some of the other men finally take action and rush to Sari’s aid.

‘Somebody call for medical assistance! Get towels for the bleeding!’

She stands up on the railing and before I can even tell her not to, she falls backwards off of the roof, plummeting to the water some 200 metres below.

A faint splash sounds among the waves

‘Malra! What the fuck are you doing?’

I turn back to the group as Sari continues to sob, now with blood running from her fingers, blending into her green gown.