on the beginnings of homesteading

we are driving a boat fast and suddenly the boat comes to a complete stop & all the dreams gathered in the hull slosh around, hitting us in the ankles. it is wet obviously and hot, although parts of the boat are covered in shade and it is there obviously that we rest & look around at the islands surrounding us. where are we? and what made us stop? are we stuck in mud? have we hit some new thing or have we stumbled on something very very old? so old, in fact, that people have forgotten that it exists? so old that there is this old, gnarly possibility before us, mostly forgotten; a way of living, in fact. a way so old & so forgotten & covered up with faucets & sinks & heating registers that people don’t look for it anymore.

but there is the purest water here. and shade & the origins of all things. and we are here. alive.


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