island born but never learned to swim. swimming was, i believed, for sons of fisherfolk, not for this indolent, unadventurous teacher’s kid. hence, this idea of summering by the waters is disconcerting to me. but it’s that or binge watching an unappealing amazon series.
oftentimes in a noh drama, a character announces to the audience that he—for it is always a he—is going somewhere else and then he does this highly ritualized walk-dance routine and the drum, the bamboo flute and the chanters sound score him along and then, he would stop and look at the audience and tell them portentously that he now has arrived in that new place. the set hasn't changed but the action has reasonably shifted.
my friends staked our spots in this new jersey beach where there were only two other families lounging, both of them brown. after lunch, slithering out of the gauze of my afternoon sleep, i swear to god, i heard the puerto rican kids telling each other stories from my island childhood.