Chimney Point: since I know you’ve never been, I’ll sketch it for you. A forefinger of land that pinches into Lake Champlain & narrows it. On the other side, its opposable thumb, is Crown Point, New York, site of an old British . . .
The café was a wide hallway in a refurbished century home. It had Doric columns at the entrance and stained-glass windows in the doors. It was all offices now, walls moved around, glass doors upstairs, very sleek.
I said, when they see that wave coming, they start to panic. Some of them throw their bodies in front of the sandcastles – these meticulous, towering sandcastles they’ve built all day, or for days . . .
Emphysema, or the wisdom teeth emerging, or love: what goes on inside a body is always an elaborate, painstaking development, a one-act play in a black-box theater for an audience of one. Changes happen slowly, mostly, & we are slow to mark the change.
First things first: don’t start. Maybe you think you have the willpower to be a tourist, to chip on weekends, on payday, when you’re stressed out because your mom phoned you up asking you to send her another moneygram . . .