In the salty brine of the sea.

A man exists.

Garbage pile filled with the leftovers of others.

Black water spreads from the base,

On the top,

Stands a man.

His clothes ripped beyond saving; Patches of garbage cover the holes.

His face was covered with mucus and dirt,

Yet his face was wide in a smirk.

His expression portrays an antithesis to his filth-filled environment.

The smell of manure fills the air,

Each step could give you a death sentence.

The sight could make anyone puke.

Yet he is unbothered.

Laughter fills the air,

His jumps were erratic, the rugged clothes swayed as he soared, landing softer than usual.

He looks down with curiosity.

A crab beneath his feet thrashes its legs around.

His hand rises and strikes down.

Fire blazing,

Cooked crab fills the air.

The heat from the fire burns like a contained inferno.

He shouts in pain from the flames.

His thumb quickly plunges into his mouth,

To soothe the pain.

The sun is now setting.

He grabs the cooked crab with eagerness, ignoring the burning feeling.

Chomps down and sucks on the crab leg.

Each bite is heightened under the moon.