It was more pervasive than I thought.

Leecherous
like the first wrong person that fell in love with you.
White
like the silvery undersides of leaves in the wind.
Dark
like coffee-coloured rings under your eyes.
Lonely
like the last person in the city before it closes for the night.

'It was a dark cave I was swimming in and I couldn't get out,' Julie says in her sweet, Austrian accent.

That evening my friend posts a photo of cave swimming in Cenote Zaci, Mexico. The light is azure, the walls are tall and black.

There is a cave and you're swimming.
You go down,
deep.

Slowly
you come up again.