some places beg to be written about the lighthouse at what feels to be the edge of the world has always been one of those places. the desolate trees stretching up to a gray sky, a birds nest resting, teetering at the top of a bare branch the clouded water revealing nothing of its depths the fog so heavy - it doesn't linger, it lives there forcing quiet introspection demanding stillness from those who squint through the gloom
at other times, astonishingly, the landscape transforms monarch butterflies migrate en masse and flutter on the milkweeds the sun sets, a tangerine looming over the saltwater marsh tiny ***** dart into their holes in the sand and slowly poke their way back out when the coast is clear
In my memories of this place I am always looking down at myself, on my bike, small, coasting down the winding road that leads to the tower for miles, keeping up with the kid on his rollerblades weaving across dotted yellow lines All-seeing, in the act of storytelling, As if I'm one of the woodpeckers perched in the pines
written about the St. Marks Lighthouse near Tallahassee, where the book Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer takes inspiration from