Guest Author: Maggie Oran

Today I did not open my mouth. I didn’t say a word. I watched the planes swerve through the sky, eerie angles adorned with lights, talking to the night in a loud, low hum the same way that waves talk to the sand. On the ground, the orb-shaped street lights lit the undersides of oaks; the trees looked artificial, as though in a set for a play. In the darkroom, in the mysterious half-light, in plastic pans of not-water, black lines became windows, carousels, and fog over the beach – bookshelves, and shadows. I leaned over and watched in silence.