Drowning in Mango - Part Three

The elephant was not life-size. Nor was it convincing. Clearly it was a relic from a long-defunct children's play area. The elephant stood in a disused paddling pool. The plants around it were overgrown, so that it seemed to be standing in knee-high grass. Its back and trunk were. meanwhile, coated with black-green slime that had dried in the sun. I wandered over to it, apparently attracting some attention in the process. I heard a voice behind me, but it was like a distant sound, a bird song that passed over me. The sun must have been getting to me. I imagined cool, clear water streaming out of the elephant's trunk and into the pool below. I knelt down beside the pool and sunk my hand into its thick waters, which were all the wrong colours. The voice behind me went on shouting. I didn't understand the language. The owner of the voice came closer now. She was pointing and telling me off, this much I could understand. I sat there, cupping some of this green fluid in my hand, and thought to myself that it sounded like Cantonese but wasn't. Then I drank the water.

Previously: Drowning in Mango - Part Two