My dreams were fractured that night, strange visions of scorpions adorned with space-ships and the character Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I awoke before seven and managed to wash and shave before waking a lethargic Matt up for a seven thirty breakfast and an eight o'clock departure. Being Sunday, the supermarket was still closed which meant our daily ration of water would have to be postponed. The egg-shaped, motorised tricycle of a coco-taxi whipped us towards the beach, the fractured asphalt mere inches away from exposed skin. The sun had barely risen meaning the beach was desolate, the sand cold and the water even colder as we sat and waited for Leo to arrive and open the shuttered dive hut.
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To say Matt had a hangover the next morning would be insulting to how unwell he both felt and looked. With the best intentions, he had set his alarm for 0730 but proceeded to turn it off and sleep through until 0830, at which point he pushed himself to get up despite being next to non-functional and barely managing to dress himself. We ventured next door, our final casa for our stay in Trinidad, for breakfast which was as healthy as always but seemed more like a chore for Matt rather than an enjoyable meal.
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With signature aplomb, SHAFT take up art-duties with ef - a tale of memories and craft a typically stylish and coy introduction to an intriguing and melodramatic series. Long shadows and open skies, stark lines and silhouetted profiles, the art direction obscures the sedate story and mundane characters but the potential for things much greater is too enticing to pass up.
the characters [...] are sometimes infuriatingly obtuse, communicating through enigmatic monologues or understated emotions
ef - a tale of memories pitches itself somewhere in between school drama and supernatural, School Days and Sola; it has the straight faced drama of School Days but more playful, with the fantasy hints of Sola except less blatant. The first episode can best be described as confusing: cutting back and forth between full colour, grayscale, black and white and all points in between seemingly at random then leaping forwards or backwards through time with nary a keystone to right oneself. It conjures up thoughts of Soultaker and the premise being the weirdness rather than coherence; thankfully these thoughts are allayed in the second and third episodes which deftly sculpt the story, rarely allowing itself to be pre-empted by the viewer. It doesn't so much tone-down the oddness as spread it more thinly. The abandon shown for chronology is more telling as certain characters and traits are in one arc and not the other, wordlessly foreshadowing momentous events on the horizon.
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The good thing about having a fully working and modern air-conditioning unit in the bedroom of our casa was the micro-climate it created. The bedroom could be a cool and calming zone, while even venturing into the en-suite bathroom meant you were faced with a not insignificant wall of heat. The bad thing was when the unit was right above your bed. This meant when I slept with the air-con on I had to press myself against the wall so that the cool air missed me as it was being blown out; regardless, I spent a lot of the night fumbling in the dark trying to turn the unit onto a lower setting which usually resulted in me turning it onto timer mode or switching it onto high-power.
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