new friends, night adventures.

When Tzitzi and I walk, we discover forgotten places. In the middle of the field, she twirls her body around, arms spread out and eyes shut, like a distraught baby bird. She finally stops, and for a moment, I am sure that she will collapse, dizzily, onto the grassy floor. Instead, she points forward, and we follow the direction of her fingers (me, stomping- and she, tripping) through what used to be a corn field.

Behind the book center, everything is still. In this blue-grey light, I can imagine what Pompeii must have looked like, when all the dust settled and solidified everything in ash. Many of the rooms are still dimly lit, and I am afraid to look into the large windows, not wanting to see a spectral face peering curiously back out at me. "You scared?" Tzi asks, and I laugh, trying not to show my chattering teeth.

We continue walking, past the pristine bushes and trickling fountain, to find a floor of what looks like linoleum tiles. This pale, beige floor looks out of place here, against the bright night's sky, but this is what we have come here to see. "..the best part." I look up to catch Tzi's last words, and watch as she prepares herself for her next task. Suddenly, she is kicking hundreds of little rocks onto the tiles, and the noise sounds like the rattling of hollow bones. She orchestrates a show of stones for me, and the notes echo off into the woods, and I feel happy and safe and pleased.


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When Tzitzi and I walk, we discover forgotten places.
In the middle of the field, she
twirls her body around, arms spread out and
eyes shut, like a distraught baby bird.
She finally stops, and for a moment,
I am sure that she will collapse, dizzily,
onto the grassy floor. Instead, she points forward,
and we follow the direction of her fingers
(me, stomping- and she, tripping)
through what used to be a corn field.

Behind the book center, everything is still.
In this blue-grey light, I can imagine Pompeii,
when all the dust settled and solidified everything in ash.
Many of the rooms are still dimly lit,
and I am afraid to look into the large windows,
not wanting to see a spectral face
peering curiously back out at me. "You scared?"
Tzi asks, and I laugh,
trying not to show my chattering teeth.

We continue walking,
past the pristine bushes and trickling fountain,
to find a floor of linoleum tiles.
This pale, beige floor looks out of place here,
against the bright night's sky, but this
is what we have come here to see.

Tzitzi prepares herself for her next task. Suddenly,
she is kicking hundreds of little rocks against the sandy tiles,
and the noise sounds like the rattling of hollow bones.
The notes echo off into the woods,
and I feel happy and safe and pleased.