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On Our Way By Rebecca Clark We are waylaid at a twist in the narrow island road by an array of enormous silver mobiles: rotating spheres, cycling cups, diamond-shapes that arc on thin metal arms and beckon us from trees. Stricken with their glimmer, their languid swim through cedar in the afternoon light, we are lured up the road to a grassy park where silver beings tower twenty feet up. Bolted to earth or strung between trees, they are stirred by the breeze, as they bow and stretch in mechanical tai chi. We wander, fallen into some divergent dimension. Even the resident dog that shepherds us seems outside the ordinary. We leave with a teardrop that will spin, jewelry for the larch in the turnaround, a twirling reminder of moving beyond margins. |
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Document last modified on: 01/06/2007