“I’m spending the days cataloging books and filling the shelves of the new library. In the early afternoons, the new library employees come in and we learn about their system, and how to work it. It’s a 4km walk out of the edge of town, along the hills and red dirt roads with broken palms back to our house. I’ll listen to the radio, or the wind as I walk. When I get back you’re on the phone with family, and our child is outside the window playing in the sand nearby. When she comes back in to join you and have a snack, I’m already wading in the water, floating on my back, and drifting further out. The clouds in the distance are reaching over the islands, their overcast arms swooping and dropping warm rain. Showers barely pass, and they blow by like shadows against the flickering, distant blue lights of the town. I can see the light from our window when I look up, treading water, and even the ocean seems grey and quiet here in the middle. Behind me is another island, led by a green mountain, grey and black with clouds hanging over. The water moves underneath, a sea snake swims by, and the surf spins.” – Will Long, Saipan, 2016