To

These are sacred places. All of these people long gone are invisible missionaries who bow down to the majesty of black sky.

Will we find our way back to our place, I wonder. Maybe I should have put up an American flag. We walk through dirt and short grass and then dunes. Here's the beach. The stars and vast black projection consume us and everyone around. I act without much hesitation, only listening to the knowing, living with little doubt. A cousin of curiousity is one of my main attributes.

You walk slowly and with a gentle touch, you are both officer and keep office hours and I am there to hold an exchange.

Long hair which would later be discovered to not be black draws my eye, this is a woman, I am coming to know a woman and she is a dragonfly which somehow made it past strict biosecurity procedures.

Every hour and every second on the road with you is a mystery and it is education. The roads are curvy and sometimes treacherous but it was supposed to be horrific and it is not really that bad in the end. What kind of a dream it has to be I pronounce now and knew at that time somewhere without clear birth. I am driving an automatic deep in the bush and you're at my side and might believe that it has always been this way, you always there. Turns out you eat like me and agree easily and smile a lot and can move on a budget.

A little piece of swamp and your voice and sense of humor. It could happen that we lose our tracks and are here permanently and merge with the flora, don't you think.