Wednesday, March 07, 2012

In the world

The bus driver says there aren't any cliffs in the world like these ones. They were carved by six glaciers and Moshup's hand. The red is from whale's blood. If you look really close you'll see quahogs, whale bones, shark teeth. It’s a sacred place, the bus driver tells me.

He’s driving us down long, narrow roads that will take us to the very end of the island, the farthest peak. The passengers thin at each stop. This is my fifth summer out here and I’d like to think that this bus driver remembers me, that we share this unspoken bond because I listen to every word he says. But every summer he gives the same obligatory smile and tells me that this place is sacred.

No comments: