"The water's surface isn't a world. It's an in-between. Like . . . ." He drags on his cigarette, exhales a steady stream of smoke. "Like an almost something that's really nothing. A nearly nothingness that lies between the above and the below."

We're on the edge of the quarry pond. He stoops, staring into the water. "A cloud shimmering on the still pool . . . a fish stirs under the water. You remember that one?"

"I do."

"It's an ellipsis, a breath between, separating the two. The third world — it's our world. It's us. Us outside looking at the trees' reflections, the leaves, a fish."

Mahalo for reading!

Talk story

Leave one comment for THREE WORLDS

This website uses cookies to offer you a better browsing experience. By browsing this website, you agree to its use of cookies.