Break-neck marching is accessible to everyone. It was formed 14 trillion years ago. Some sections have never been explored before. The region denotes an air of pervasive cack stench. A ridiculously deformed pigmy makes a sound like a frog, it irritates my photographer, Alasdair. His lens is fucked. He has small black bits stuck to his face.
I shan’t go any further without a break and some whisky.
A shredded corpse of a man lies by the base of a tree. There are no pygmies, they have deserted us. Our guides are laughing and poking the shredded body form with an orange stick. Alasdair refuses to photograph it. I shout at him and he lumbers in the opposite direction stumbling slightly over a damp root.
A boat ride. Insects appear to despise Alasdair. They bite him and suck at him and his top lip is always covered in fine balls of sweat. Black bits are stuck to his eyelids and forehead.
I saw a large dolphin and a monkey swimming in contradictory directions.
Silence is noise. Beasts, everywhere. Alasdair has been found, shredded. I know it is Alasdair as there are black specks everywhere, stuck to the rubber plants around the mound of flesh. I pick up the camera and take a picture of him. I make a mental note to send the picture to his partner, Karl…
A plastic snake is lying in the undergrowth. A child with a cleft lip snatches it and disappears.
We are staying in a spider hut, a spider larger than my head waits in the corner. I kill it with my spear.
A pygmy woman gropes my fallopian tubes and pushes me up against a pygmy donkey. I fall into the undergrowth and begin to run. The noise gradually becomes deafening. Black specks are everywhere…
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