I swim.
I no longer need to fall to get back up, to crawl to get pity, to prostrate myself to ask, or to roll over wildly in protest.
I swim, armed only with a pair of underwear and tennis shoes, the most precious possession I have left.
In the whirlpool of the damned, the invisible plague-ridden who all look normal in the sun, all less frail and derelict.
Overwhelmed by the weight of problems or the fury of water and mud, what difference does it make?
So I swim, not to go under. Although one wonders what the bottom is and if our life is not already beyond, more than anywhere else.
History is here to repeat itself endlessly, like the passing of the seasons, and by repeating itself it gets worse, like the faded copy of a planet of replicants.
I swim, and there is no shore to reach, no boat to get on to go far away.
There are always those who worry after the fact, those who throw a lifebuoy to make themselves look good, those who offer a raft for a fee.
And there are still many, too many people who have not been taught how to swim and will not have time to learn.

NAIROBI: Floods over the past few days in Kenya have killed at least 200 people, displacing some 30,000 families, a total of more than 180,000 people. Near Naivasha, the overflowing of a watercourse swept away an entire village, 72 deaths confirmed, 43 missing. In the rest of the country, there are broken roads, collapsed bridges, flooded houses and shops, landslides, entire communities isolated and others at risk. Thousands of Kenyans, despite knowing that they are in danger, do not want to leave their land, for fear that it will be taken away from them by others. Those who have already lost their homes, however meagre or rudimentary, have lost everything they had.

(Photo: X Twitter)