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?