ania rachmat

over the hills and faraway....

(composing towards a book)

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The deer carcass lies on the barnacled rock as if it had fallen from the sky. Its ribs exposed and picked clean. Birds fight for their share, until it is finished, spiritless, upside down on this rock. Dead but not gone. The deer lingers. I can feel it. I stay with its bones and look out over the ocean, the view it had before it died. I see it in the sky, a refugee from Santa's sleigh. A reindeer.

We moved here for a year. The scenery is beautiful and makes up for everything. at least that's how it seems. All this nature and space makes up for a lot but not everything....