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.
Unfinished buildings rise up from the dust along the road.
The dogs, what few there were, are too hungry and beaten to do more than watch me run past. Clouds of dust and dirt roil up into the evening air, the roadsides littered with human bodies like so many discarded candy wrappers. After my joggle, I wash up and go out onto the new dock at the Truk Stop Hotel. There I watch the sun set into the western Pacific ocean. Stunning beauty out there at the horizon.