I can hear them like Formula One cars on a track around my head and on my skin the flame of contusions like tyres exploding on tarmac. My left eyelid has swollen I’ve been sucker punched during the night-long battle. I’m a sore loser. I introduce aids– mosquito coils, aromatherapy candles, citronella oil, the air conditioner– but they always win. Welts on my limbs from bites or scratching, mosquitoes in the bedclothes– now that’s just cheating! I cover my face with the bedspread my arm out as an offering
