Part VI
They call it an island, I call it a rock. A small piece of land, with water crashing down on it in every which way. Getting smaller each time you blink. A rock. Implacable. As fixed as the sea is fluid. I let them bind me, so I will be contained. As the men settle, I keep my eyes fixed on this little strip of faith, this land, this rock. We are nearing it. Gaining momentum. Moving. As fluid as the sea is fixed.
So here we go. I wonder.
< Part V
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten