You asked me if I had been to the islandof witches, of shamans, of shapeshifters—and I had, but only once, but for less thana day. We rode a tricycle along the dustyseawall to a waiting motorboat. The waveswere brisk and choppy, but we saw flying fish…  | By Luisa A. Igloria on September 28, 2024 | You asked me if I had been to the island
of witches, of shamans, of shapeshifters—
and I had, but only once, but for less than
a day. We rode a tricycle along the dusty
seawall to a waiting motorboat. The waves
were brisk and choppy, but we saw flying fish
as the municipality came into view. I remembered
reading about firefly colonies in the molave
trees, and how Spanish explorers thought they
were on fire. The locals said, be careful. There are
those who can cast their eyes in a long view;
who can send a shiver down your nape and arm
without touching. The sun at the horizon
sometimes looks as though it refuses
to set. A hand could slip into yours, a shadow
into your faltering steps as you walk.
| | | |
No comments:
Post a Comment