|An orange and pearl sky, from the blog red.|
This is just the beginning. We are alien worlds.
Do we not approach each other with that same trepidation that beats in the heart of the anthropologist on a planet with three moons and electromagnetic disturbances? So we say: I do not know how to tread on your land. I do not know what to accept with grace and what may be an unfamiliar poison. My language may babble in an inscrutable stream. I may starve or suffocate without special protection.
And in loving, are we not also this same anthropologist? I want to touch this alien leaf, though strange creatures may bite me. I will adjust my gait to your gravity. I breathe in your nutmeg air, trusting my lungs to the pleasure. I count the stars in this tangerine sky, though the patterns are unfamiliar. Please trust and carry my weight on your earth.
held in the minute microcosms of our navels.
Dr. Rob Dunn, in a study on the bacteria in our navels, has found entire life stories hidden within:
|© Camille Seaman, The Atlantic|
|Howard Terpning, The Storyteller. From First People.|