When I was an undergrad at the UW in Seattle in the late '70s and early '80s, at night I often used to go alone down to the end of a dock at a ramshackle marina next to Anchor Jensen's shipyard, under the I90 overpass where the Cut opens out into Lake Union.
Walking out in the moonlight over the creaky weathered boards to the sound of the ripples against the boat hulls and the stays ringing against the masts and the traffic white noise drifting down from overhead, I'd look up at the stars and wonder if I'd be back at the same spot in 10, 20, 50 years, and if so what I'd know by then that was currently a mystery, hope or expectation.
It was a beautiful spot in the heart of the city, so of course it had to be bulldozed to make way for more ugliness, and I can't keep that implicit promise explicitly.
So I've created this page instead as a place to put some of the stuff I might have gone out there and told my earlier self, if only in my imagination.
Back to my antique home page.