When I was a child, there were three movies.

One had a mermaid.

One had a karate-chopping pig.

One had hounds of hell who awoke from stone statues.

And over and over and over, until memorized.

So: it was a magical mythical land. Its spires and sprawl no less defiantly impossible.

One day, to stand there, to see them. To know.


I came at the age of seventeen. From the ferry, I saw the Twin Towers. I knew. Here, was my density.

Now, another decade is past. And when I travel:

Stars and sky and sea and sand. Nothing but natural. Yet it unnerves me. As though something waits to descend. To intrude.

I've become an agoraphobe, crippled by civilzation.

I think I need to let go of too much everything.