Great dune, great lake, great…
Published in
1 min readFeb 22, 2014
Squinting through sunglasses and trudging, leaning into the wind off the lake, gazing out knowing that somewhere across the water was Wisconsin. Little dark spots down by the water—people—hiking up the sharply sloping sand. Suckers. A few march closer into view, pained looks, pausing, panting. The muffled sound of the wind in a plugged ear. Water trapped somewhere in there and my own sick fascination with my body’s strange productivity, that it produces enough wax to trap water, and the resiliency of said wax, and the moderately handicapped feeling of hearing my own voice echoing through my head when I speak, and the distant sound of someone speaking. Life at a remove on the Sleeping Bear Dunes.
