Dear great-grandwreck, I took a walk in the sun. At the bottom of the uptown cliffs I was stopped in my tracks. I had seen the turtles there before, but never quite like this: piled en masse on a rock with their smooth heads all lifted in the same upward direction. I looked across the pond and realized dozens of turtles had gathered there, all doing the same thing, still as statues. They were waiting, was the only way to see it. They had called something into being and were waiting for its arrival from the bright gash of city sky.
Stop Moving
Stop Moving
Stop Moving
Dear great-grandwreck, I took a walk in the sun. At the bottom of the uptown cliffs I was stopped in my tracks. I had seen the turtles there before, but never quite like this: piled en masse on a rock with their smooth heads all lifted in the same upward direction. I looked across the pond and realized dozens of turtles had gathered there, all doing the same thing, still as statues. They were waiting, was the only way to see it. They had called something into being and were waiting for its arrival from the bright gash of city sky.