At Post Office Bay, Floriana Island, I collect postcards from strangers addressed to my home town, Lagunitas, and more cards to Tiburon, and Bolinas—to hand-deliver. It is the custom.
One card from an unknown traveler, is addressed to my old biology teacher Al Molina, from the temporary address of 0° latitude. Degrees of separation.
One card from an unknown traveler, is addressed to my old biology teacher Al Molina, from the temporary address of 0° latitude. Degrees of separation.
I retrieve mail from an old biology teacher who entrusted a messenger with the postcard, like a baton in a slow race played by ships traveling from one port to port, on airplanes, and by way of the gringo trail, spreading the word.
Some 200 years later, we reenact the whalers' mail system on this barren island in the middle of the Pacific. The garúa, the winter mist blurs the definition of sea and sky, time and space.
I sent a postcard to my friend. I write on it, the person who delivers this will marry you…
7/13/1988
see also
7/13/1988
- Flying through the Andes from Quito to Lima, Ecuad...
- Postcard from the Galapagps, 0° Lat., 8° long.
- Sweet potatoes and Taro, Galápagos Journal
- LONESOME GEORGE
- RICE RAT
- PENGUINS on BARTOLEME ISLAND
- PARADISE
- Post Office Bay, Floriana Island, Galápagos Journa...
- SWIMMING ALONE, CORONA DEL DIABLO, 2 poems
- In a small boat, adrift, between Islands, Galápago...
- BLUE-FOOTED BOOBIES, ESPANOLA ISLAND
- EIGHT DAYS IN PUERTO AYPRA
- Lava Tunnels, Puerto Ayora
- LA MITAD DEL MUNDO
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