I can see it in their eyes, the vague concern, the wanting to step in and say ‘that’s not normal’, and I’m always waiting to say ‘well what is, and I’m in the rain watching slugs eat the snails that have been evicted from their shells without notice, but with a loud crunch, and I’m picking up petals with rainbows in the droplets. The dye is dripping out my hair and onto the floor, dying the grass funny colours and giving worms slight concern and I feel better then I have in days, months, timeless. I crack a sideways smile to passers by and poke my tongue out at the kids. They know what it’s all about. So I pick up a snail and they do the same, and the parent slaps their hand. I guess the slugs have more to devour now. Slimey vagrants.