the earliest memory i have is of looking up at the imposing prow
of a great ship in a harbor. the second earliest is of leis floating
in the water . . . armfuls of blossoms rocking quietly on the bright
surface, the scent of salt and rose and sea, of diesel, of plumeria and
straw: all of this rising on the waves & then gone. that such beauty
could be thrown off was shocking to me. that enough trust existed
to let it go is not forgotten. we must let things go in order to return.
image: duncan hannah's
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