winds esker                
  
                                          
 there was this place that for two  years 
 i  couldn't  go to.  regardless how much 
 discussed  with others,  or  pointed out 
 on maps,  i could  not think of it  when 
 alone. i  would often  travel  past  the 
 fork, where  a right  turn  would surely 
 take me there, but even  then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i  finally  got there, after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place   was  surreal.  an 
 esker,  like  a needle-thin  rift out in 
 the   lake,  but  ten  meters  high  and 
 adorned  in birch,  willow, bracken, and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the view  to either side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't recognize  them.  first off, they 
 were much  too close, as the lake should 
 stretch  for a  hundred meters  more  on 
 both sides.  but  now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost  reach  out  and  touch them. and 
 then, when i realized  which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they were of  the  right  lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite.  like a pair of lungs  carved 
 into the granite, and with no  less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
    impossibly close shores, i slowly     
 understood  them as belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i  examined  the   ridge,  the  treeline 
 above. was this  what you  saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                remember.                 
                                          
 carrying  forward,  on the very  tip  of 
 the  esker,  i  found  the ruins of some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
  marble staircases, stone floors beneath 
 the  moss,  and strange  slabs  inserted 
 into the  slope  like  dams  against the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there,  i  could see  across the 
 narrowed lake my entire path  to where i 
 sat: from  the  stairwell  of  my house, 
 through  the  old woods behind  the tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and  then  back  under it, 
 through  the  fancy   villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then  that right turn at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and then the  stairs  up on  the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was probably  it. 
 hidden in a  grove,  there  were  stairs 
 much like the  ones i currently sat  on, 
 old  and  worn  down, that  lead  you up 
 onto the esker. the point  of entry. had 
 i  insted opted to walk  the path at its 
 foot,  i'm  sure  my experience would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the  lake,   there  were  people  in 
 boats.  i wondered, could they  even see 
 me? if  i shouted,  would  they  turn to 
         stare right through me?