Not under a cabbage then, but under a blue and white striped sea umbrella I came into the world, or rather I would say I came to the sea, this sea.
My father a strong crab, spiky and sweet, hurriedly planted his umbrella as a makeshift shelter to my mother's sudden labour pains, a starfish of such a delicate and pale pink, but at that moment with its tips twisted and burning bright red from the pain of childbirth