Strange leaves beneath our feet, hitting our faces, shielding us from the Balinese sun. Beetles cling to bark in the undergrowth. Something underfoot. Don’t look. Just move on. We can't have strayed too far. Everywhere squares of sunlight spring to life, then hide, again, again! Shrill cicada cries, strangely pitched, beating in our ears.
in the forest we wander
surprisingly, a gamelan plays