The Slow and the Fast
Slow. I yell it, please slower. The fear is an amoeba sitting on my chest, coating my hands and tongue.
Fast. My descent feels so swift past all the moves I just made, zipping by all the places I thought I couldn’t go higher.
Bisons & Bullets
On a hill on an island with fewer than two hundred people on it, there was a sculpture of a bison with holes in it.
Avalanche Lilies
Why does a flower have more meaning when we know its name? As if identification confers value. As if possession is knowing.
Two Hour Line
I wouldn’t have given this roadside a second’s worth of glance in any other circumstance. But now, I was climbing over the guardrail to get a closer view of the river right next to us.