Day 2

      Slipslide down a bank of sand – you see through the girl-child’s eyes.
      You look over a city: see the palm fronds of the date trees in the gardens of the wealthy, green canopy sporadic, as they show beside the flat-tops in their low ‘n high ‘n higher tessellation, textured white ‘n faded-gold about before you. Look on at the alleyway that courses down from Karnak, through the courtyard squares and suburbs to the other templed-end: sandstone alone on hilltop; southern sceptre.
      The girl knelt and stared at the grains, all gathered, of the hot, compacted sand, lowering her right hand slowly t’ward its canvas-surface. Placing, with such a trepidated lightness, fingertips against Seb’s blank papyrus, a child of story froze in felt illit’racy.
      To make immortal markings…thoughts made comprehensible…physical, in phact…carving symbols into sandstone for your voice toooo to echo out after four five thousand years what? oh ready[“Yep!”]I guess In phact thuh fare-oh philters throo thuh phirmament One. Two. Heeeaave! Jesus…Watch th[“Watch that chain!”]…The iron hull[“No worries.”]first iron-hulled steamship if it works unphhh[“Prrrhh!”]it can pass beneath Hah! the incompleted bridge One. Two. Dowwwn.
      Placing lumber on the red-brick wall within the dry dock’s storage yard, the men who built the Great Britain breathed/leant/relaxed/looked skyward.


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