Kaikane

But as time passes, my body quiets, my mind slows to match the stillness and I start to hear something else. The crater. The island. The sound comes not as sound, but through the rough sand under my hands, the slow gradations of color.

“Quiet,” Edward Readicker-Henderson (Hana Hou)

When I can’t hear my body anymore, I touch my wrist. My heart moves in time with something at the edge of sensation, a disturbance of the field. Maybe it’s the vibration of distant waves coming ashore. Maybe it’s just the island breathing. I’ve never heard anything like it. I probably never will again. I sit for as long as the quiet lasts, feeling my pulse, or maybe the pulse of Haleakala. Or maybe, just now, they’re the same.

“Quiet,” Edward Readicker-Henderson (Hana Hou)

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