Sit long enough and you’ll see the patterns. Like the old man walking from the shore through the mud carrying a large container filled with water. He places it in a small wooden boat, turns and walks back to the shore. A second container. And then a third. On his fourth return he lifts his large dog and shuffles towards his boat and prepares to leave. Behind him the wooden jetty shifts as a man makes his way to the moored motor-boat. A man steps out the cabin and meets him. They glance around furtively, then exchange packages. They do not see the old man concealed behind the jetty. They do not see me, invisible in my car. But I see them.