This is a shout-out to all the lonely people, the dark, the melancholy, the possessed. My life has been inverted, someone reached down into my throat and pulled me inside out. Mom died, that’s it, and I was packed off to be with my dad. It took a day to make the journey from Hawaii to Alaska, but it feels like I have already been dead a lifetime.
My home ... what has been my home, a little island, perhaps, but wrapped around it the many climates of the earth, volcanic, balmy, constant showers, desert, rainforest, everything - but cold. Not cold, never cold. No walls, no windows, and every space a contour, undulating, constant motion in the stillness of one tiny hunk of lava.
But here. Flat, hard, grey and still. Even the wind, which is constant, is still. The people, too, each one owning their own truck - flat, grey, hard and still. Flat, grey faces. I am searching for signs of life in North Pole, Alaska.
I have never felt so far from everywhere.