Every now and then, when the wind drops completely, it starts.
Hundreds of thousands of tiny mayflies invade the island all at once, throwing themselves at every light source in sight. Direction is not their strong point.

Within minutes they’re in your hair, slipping down your collar and heading south towards your belly button, searching for who knows what. Along the way, so many get squashed that shirts and trousers instantly acquire a new, spotty design. Free of charge.

Sometimes, bug night is replaced by beetle night. Possibly even worse: with their little armour they march, once landed in your collar, calmly across your entire body. Until they either vanish down the shower drain or leave a perfect imprint on your shirt.

And dinner? On these nights, your plate never gets empty.