The roads are pot holed and the dust kicked up by cars is heavy and gritty. The dust makes breathing difficult. The fine dust chokes one and permeates every building in Moen. Air conditioning filters cannot stop the dust. The dust must be wreaking havoc with equipment on the island.
People are everywhere, sitting, ever waiting.
In some areas there is no flat surface upon which is not some person. Staring into space. A few women drift in pairs through the dust along the edge of the road. A young boy chases me at one point, demanding my juggling balls. A man drives by in a truck and demands that I stop running.