I feel I want to go to the rocks, shattered granite, and fragmented wisdom shredded in pieces. I want to lie my fluids all in between you and bring you back together. I drape my flesh over you, seeking comfort, support, rest. What has been made of you, land? Rock? Merging, healing, listening, forgiving. Separating, shedding. This body inside out, as fragmented and connected as the dust.

Dear Laajasalo.

This is all to climb the sky. When the best view of it would be to just leave it empty. No trees around. Except those few on the tiny peninsula where I met the mallard duck.  ​