It’s hard going to the marsh with her. It’s mid-day. White lilies bloom. It seems I am on the edge of a petaline galaxy, but not Meena.
heart mountain mind river—
‘When you think with the world you are at the perfect spot always’
[egret lands on a tuft of grass making loud cackling noises]
Each white flower is the soul of a broken girl, Meena says. ‘You must collect the seeds and throw them in many waters.'
No, they’re not. They’re water lilies, Meena.
But she will have none of it. ‘They could also be songs of girls sprouting from the depths of a teenage void.’
heart mountain mind river—
‘The formation of sentences is just like the formation of hills’
[egret faces the sun and walks with its wings outstretched]
But this is a marsh, Meena. These are lilies. Those are dragonflies.
This coconut-lined road that circles the marsh is used by miners to carry the sand dripping a river. And there is a cormorant and here are whistling ducks and these are bronze-winged jacanas.
‘How naive you are,’ she says, ‘I thought you knew how these things worked.’
heart mountain mind river—
‘It is not right to drag everything into language’
[egret takes off leaving a trail of droplets from its feet]