The ground is broken here and drops away at once, a dirt cliff on the edge of the small lake below. I sit down cross-legged, neat, and watch the water. I built my fractured dreams from memories of the fields, but I was tired now, and the day was done, and the water asked for less.
I wondered if there were secrets and so I curled into a ball and rolled on down the hill into the water where pebbles lay waiting on the surface.
I held the water and I played until I was too happy to make sense of time. The years went by, and soon I'd learnt every inch of it. An old man called down to me, "How's the land today?" I didn't know what he meant. There was nothing but the lake.