Melville

[Each piece of driftwood carries endless miles of stories silenced only by a seeming dalliance of a lingering within some vaguely defined final stages of disappearance...  But deep within many of them (the wood, the drifting, the dalliances, or maybe those final stages of disappearance) there are still surprising depths of solidity...]

Melville: I wanted to find a certain woman.

H: Woman you say?

Melville: I suppose.

H: When the silence of a word is broken, it becomes an idol upon which terror can lay claim...

Melville: (remains silent)

H: Wanted?

Melville: Well, yes, or else had wanted.

H: And now?

Melville: A sort of complaint against the trail system.

H: Ha!  That’s a good one.  But you know, nothing can be done about that, it has been the same way for years, a product of spontaneous non-planning.

Melville: So what about maps?

H: Well, have it your way but it’s just as well to forget about it and just pay attention to the direction instead of trying to figure out one’s particular placement...

Melville: I do though continue trying to reach the shore...

H: A certain woman, you say?

Melville: Well, I had...

H: And now?

Melville: The shore.

H:  You know everyone’s talking.  Someone got lost not far from the great bull kelp knot, and I know that you have been out there watching the signs and seeing the currents change...

Melville: (remains silent)