Every now and then a train rattled by on the tracks above us. I wanted to tell him how from the train I always looked down onto these marshes. I wanted to let him know that somewhere nearby there was a reservoir. I wanted to describe how when light hit the water it glistened with a bluish shimmer, but when there was no sun it screamed grey somewhere from its dark, cavernous bottom. I wanted him to know that sometimes I imagined myself sitting with my feet dangling over the edge.

– Roseena Hussain, Novel in progress