Caribbean Isle Notes #2

When you were there crime always seemed to be something that was going on far away, unseen beyond your horizon, but deeply felt. A reverse magnet pulling you away from the common in favor of the touristic. Even the locals had grown weary of each other, influenced by the perception, acting it out in everyday life; surrounded by the requisite fences and alarms protecting the status quo. You basked in the glow of deeply held suspicions, driven by fear into the mega resorts styled in the manner of an upwardly mobile idyll, protected and unchallenged. You played your part and they played theirs. Then it was time to go home.