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Show 204 My friend Blake drowned in a cave several years ago and for months afterward I could taste drowning in any storm, or any sprinkler water blown my way. Less often now, though I'm still haunted by the idea of his lungs full of water, or his skin taking on a cold aqua color for being in the cave too long. I went to the salty shores of Great Salt Lake with him once. It was a very stifling eighty-five degrees outside in August, and we thought the wind from the lake would help cool us down. At the time, I regretted going there with Blake. It was just the two of us and he was sometimes prone to lectures and abundant enthusiasm that got on my nerves when no one else was there to temper him. Besides that, Blake was vegan and straight edge, and so we had to eat apples and drink water around the fire instead of chips and Southern Comfort. Since then I've developed more appreciation for the way GSL looks at night, and I think being there with Blake was one of those memories or visions that I didn't get the first time through. I think it would help to describe him, but Blake was the one who taught me how to fully appreciate night, so I'll describe that instead since it's what I remember. Quiet waves, and the smell of brine shrimp in the air. Some gulls flew like sparks up into the face of clouds and sky. We stayed there for hours and camped on the shore. There was no moon that night, and appeared to be no sky at all. The sky and the water were both the dark blue of ashes. The sight of water flooded my eyes, and I remember the taste of the lake entering my body. I felt like it was unstringing my bones. And then the darkness moved nearer. |