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  • In the afterglow, we talk of turtles.

    He is a traveler like me, so I ask him where in the world he would most like to be. He tells me of a small village north of Puerta Villarta, Mexico, Pacific side. This village is the place where sea turtles have their nesting grounds. Once the eggs hatch, the young find their way by the light of the moon to the water to begin the cycle of their ancestry; The culture of this place seems to pivot on this event and the people help the hatchlings find their way to sea; however, if people help too much, the hatchlings will not remember the place to return; they must do it themselves if they are to return.

    I am a traveler like him. There is a place like for me, a desert place. I have sat on its floor and felt the moon’s profound effect. A place where the desert tortoise does its best to make its home; however, the people here often want to build a road, a house, a casino, a spa in its path. There is always a fight in the city hall discussing the tortoise’s fate. I find it sad, so I make a joke.

    “But if you ever run into a desert tortoise, he doesn’t look too enthused. He looks like a shelled Winston Churchill grumping, ‘Build the fucking casino! Do you know what it’s like to trudge like this for a hundred years in this goddamn heat with this goddamn shell?”

    We laugh.

    Lull.

    We are not here. We are where we have been before.

    He gets dressed.

    He is a traveler; he leaves.

    That’s how it’s done.

    We are travelers; we must find our way.

    In the afterglow, we talk of turtles.
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