BacardiIisland
Sasha Cyril
I bring the goggles down over my eyes and stick the snorkel mouthpiece in my mouth thinking germs germs germs and hoping the salt will sterilize it. I’ve always been too fussy and governed by worry but suddenly it dissolves (usually in saltwater) and I’m breast stroking myself out and away from Bacardi island which my father brought me to. Pineapple juice and some grilled sardines for lunch. Further out I go, moving faster because of my fake plastic feet: funny that I feel so natural in this getup. Below makes my heart race because it’s deep, really deep and so clear and full of light before a massive jump to dark.
Sasha Cyril (she/her) went to her first Prince concert in utero. She is a British-Indian multidisciplinary writer based in Copenhagen, published by The Paris Review, Playboy, i-D, Spectra, dirt child and Pariah Press where she is a contributing editor. She moonlights as a travel scrivener.