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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


10.21.03, monday night

Today was terrible. I'd rather remember last night, when we biked to the deck where the Heraclitis had been briefly anchored before it set sail with a polyglot crew of coral reef researchers, kohl green eyes flanking its red-trimmed black prow. Because coral reefs are endangered, the researchers want to launch a satellite into outer space. How can a satellite save coral reefs? I had wondered.

Jimmy pointed, Look. Thousands and thousands of tiny silver fish swam in the green-black water, glimmering like the Milky Way as they fed on floating matter.

Later he gave me a field guide to North American birds, which he had bought while waiting for me to get off work. We immediately identified a black-crowned night heron, sulking on the far end of the pier as it watched the lit yachts beyond.




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