September 11, 2018
none of us know how we ended up here or how long we will remain
day 1: raining. i have no tools. i am hungry.
day 2: desperation motivates me to observe my surroundings. because i lived in the city for so long, i first observe my surroundings for friends, but i find none. i had none there so i cannot envision who i should find here. and yet, to see a person at all, would make them a friend. this seems not too much different from living in the city.
day 3: i have caught a hare. it fell into a snare, a simple pit i dug with my hands and covered with twigs and leaves. when i pick it up its fur is surprisingly soft for the humid wilderness around us and i feel her bones underneath her delicate skin. her heart is fluttering in her neck. i do not have the courage to eat her.
day 4: i have learned to make a simple dwelling for my new friend. she hasn't run away despite finding some compromised points in said dwelling. i now know i can make one for myself, but it will take more time and materials.
day 5: the river nearby is teeming with life and when you touch it, its coolness is refreshing. i do not know how to catch what swims in it because these creatures are agile. their gleam is enticing. i make do with berries and a strange, succulent blue fruit. biting into the skin is bitter and leathery but just beneath this layer is a juicy, alien thing. its flesh it was textured like a peach with sweeter and tangier notes of strawberry. i ate too many and began to see things.
day 9: eating the blue fruit in moderation and cooking it on a stick makes the hallucinations stop.
day 15: the fish swim right into the netting i made from tree bark fibers. when i dredge them up i see many of them are young. mental note: to check further upstream for older fish and to see what i can do to multiply these.
day 25: typhoon weather. incidentally, or maybe because of the weather, swarms of birds fly in frantic circles overhead, crying out. their hue is as blue as the blue fruit i eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with harriet, my hare. no planes, no helicopters. no drones. nothing on the horizon. somehow this realization calms me.
day 54: i explore farther out today than ever before and discover a grove. light through the trees flashing. there may have been hundreds of birds in the trees singing. lush, blue grass. just ahead there is a little pond. when i inspect it I find a statue of a woman submerged in it. her palm facing upward, water collected inside. though it is dirty i still sip the water from her pond. i expect something but nothing changes, except i realize that each day that passes on this isle i feel a new part of me emerge, one who wants me to try out new things.
day 110: while out spearing fish i see something. someone. there is someone else on the island. i am in no hurry to meet them.
day 210: the wood is flexible enough in small pieces where you can wet, bend, and shape them. i can make baskets, roofs, utensils.
day 396: life here is beautiful. i keep thinking something bad will happen. a few nights ago as i was returning to camp a wild animal attacked me. the animal scratched and hurt me and in the scuffle i killed it. something automatic kicked in and i skinned the animal and cooked it and ate it with berries. it was one of the best meals i have ever tasted. a bad day used to be a papercut while filing, or knowing rent would be late. there are many medicinal plants on this island. you rub them on cuts and bites and it feels like that river does. cool and refreshing.
day 570: his name is arthur. he doesn't know how he got here either. language barrier. i decide to try for complete honesty and i tell him i am not interested in making friends on this island. i feel like my sentiment was clear enough for arthur to understand, and i like to believe he shares my sentiment. his fine abode is in a cave just north of here. he has found how to make a wax that will burn through the night. and so i know he is at home while passing through the mountains because his wax is lit.
day 571: arthur leaves materials in my hut for how to make the wax. animal lard, among them.
day 609: our silent explorations have taken us so far it would take 11 days to get back. how big is this island? we see another person here. she speaks my language. her name is fiona. she showsus her garden. she cultivates many sorts of edible plants. some so fleshy they taste just like meat. she trims some off and leaves them in the sea water for the day, in the sun. at night we roast them over the fire with fish and blue fruit. the grilled plants taste wonderful. fiona is very good at communicating and arthur learns how to say things in our language. the first thing he learns how to say is, life is better here.
day 1,269: more people on this island, none who i have had any trouble interacting with, unlike my life in the city, where an invite to a party would give me crippling anxiety. someone new also woke up on the island, not knowing how he got here. we all try keeping post to see how people arrive and yet it remains a mystery. each person has an anniversary of when they arrived here, which we approximate by a local plant whose leaf growth marks the days. though time feels different here we settle on using a 365 day cycle. my anniversary was yesterday. i show them a boat that another man taught me to make, having worked on it for at least 40 days. we take turns sailing along the coast and someone sing songs in the evening with a makeshift guitar. when we all retreat to our separate abodes, some traveling many days to come and see me, i feel a sense of... completeness.
day 2,601: i meet a man who has been here for more than 10 years, named Jae-Eun. he says, before i arrived on the island, there were no traditions; he had gone for a long time before meeting anyone. he met someone some years back but never saw them again. when arthur and i showed up he suddenly found there were many people on this island. friends who showed him waterfalls, beautiful animal hides, whistling rocks. he is glad there are traditions now. he would like to make one for what happens to people when they die. oddly enough i hadn't thought of death since the waking up here, even when i have been in mortal danger. we settle on a tradition like the floating lights he saw on TV once. we chose the river that runs through the grove of the goddess statue. "i have been there, and that is the perfect place." are there tears in his eyes? i can't tell for sure. it is so hot outside sweat is running down my own eyes.
day 2,845: arthur fashions for me a pen and paper. he leaves them for me in my hut with instructions on how to make pen and paper. there are symbols on the first page that i don't understand, but they are punctuated with a smiley face.
day 2,846: on my way to arthur's, i find him face down in the stream that runs down to my hut. he is still breathing.
day 3,090: arthur is better again, but he is dying. he was sick before we came here. how could i not tell? "it's very okay," he tells me. "life is better now." he is now teaching me how to decipher the symbols of his language.
day 3,220: i have learned to decipher the symbols, which read, "we can make directions, for the new people that come. in pictures and different languages. make maps. show them girl's garden so they can eat well."
day 4,001: Jae-Eun presides over the ceremony. i learn how to make holders for arthur's long burning lights so we can place them in the water. arthur's cremated remains are now in a clay ornamental jar made by another person on the island. we release him down the river of the goddess. so many people are here, and everyone is crying. as his urn gently bobs downstream i am filled with exhilaration. arthur had told me he had always wanted to leave the world better than he found it, and he feared in his old life that he would not have the chance to. he's made life better for so many here on the island. Jae-Eun places a hand on my shoulder. This is the tenth ceremony he had presided over. He gives me a knowing look. His time is nearing, too. We all follow the river down to the ocean. here we watch the lights bound on gentle waves toward the horizon. we eat and dance. we celebrate. I watch the bonfire. I feel a flicker out of the corner of my eye. When I turn, I see Arthur's cave is lit. I run away from the celebration, toward his cave, and that's when I realized the light is not emanating from his cave but from someone else's. we both startle each other. "I don't know how I got here," she says. "But when I saw lights in the distance I did my best to make my own, to signal others that I was here." I tell her that I, also, have no idea how I got here. But almost 11 years have passed and I am still glad I came.
none of us know how we ended up here or how long we will remain
day 1: raining. i have no tools. i am hungry.
day 2: desperation motivates me to observe my surroundings. because i lived in the city for so long, i first observe my surroundings for friends, but i find none. i had none there so i cannot envision who i should find here. and yet, to see a person at all, would make them a friend. this seems not too much different from living in the city.
day 3: i have caught a hare. it fell into a snare, a simple pit i dug with my hands and covered with twigs and leaves. when i pick it up its fur is surprisingly soft for the humid wilderness around us and i feel her bones underneath her delicate skin. her heart is fluttering in her neck. i do not have the courage to eat her.
day 4: i have learned to make a simple dwelling for my new friend. she hasn't run away despite finding some compromised points in said dwelling. i now know i can make one for myself, but it will take more time and materials.
day 5: the river nearby is teeming with life and when you touch it, its coolness is refreshing. i do not know how to catch what swims in it because these creatures are agile. their gleam is enticing. i make do with berries and a strange, succulent blue fruit. biting into the skin is bitter and leathery but just beneath this layer is a juicy, alien thing. its flesh it was textured like a peach with sweeter and tangier notes of strawberry. i ate too many and began to see things.
day 9: eating the blue fruit in moderation and cooking it on a stick makes the hallucinations stop.
day 15: the fish swim right into the netting i made from tree bark fibers. when i dredge them up i see many of them are young. mental note: to check further upstream for older fish and to see what i can do to multiply these.
day 25: typhoon weather. incidentally, or maybe because of the weather, swarms of birds fly in frantic circles overhead, crying out. their hue is as blue as the blue fruit i eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with harriet, my hare. no planes, no helicopters. no drones. nothing on the horizon. somehow this realization calms me.
day 54: i explore farther out today than ever before and discover a grove. light through the trees flashing. there may have been hundreds of birds in the trees singing. lush, blue grass. just ahead there is a little pond. when i inspect it I find a statue of a woman submerged in it. her palm facing upward, water collected inside. though it is dirty i still sip the water from her pond. i expect something but nothing changes, except i realize that each day that passes on this isle i feel a new part of me emerge, one who wants me to try out new things.
day 110: while out spearing fish i see something. someone. there is someone else on the island. i am in no hurry to meet them.
day 210: the wood is flexible enough in small pieces where you can wet, bend, and shape them. i can make baskets, roofs, utensils.
day 396: life here is beautiful. i keep thinking something bad will happen. a few nights ago as i was returning to camp a wild animal attacked me. the animal scratched and hurt me and in the scuffle i killed it. something automatic kicked in and i skinned the animal and cooked it and ate it with berries. it was one of the best meals i have ever tasted. a bad day used to be a papercut while filing, or knowing rent would be late. there are many medicinal plants on this island. you rub them on cuts and bites and it feels like that river does. cool and refreshing.
day 570: his name is arthur. he doesn't know how he got here either. language barrier. i decide to try for complete honesty and i tell him i am not interested in making friends on this island. i feel like my sentiment was clear enough for arthur to understand, and i like to believe he shares my sentiment. his fine abode is in a cave just north of here. he has found how to make a wax that will burn through the night. and so i know he is at home while passing through the mountains because his wax is lit.
day 571: arthur leaves materials in my hut for how to make the wax. animal lard, among them.
day 609: our silent explorations have taken us so far it would take 11 days to get back. how big is this island? we see another person here. she speaks my language. her name is fiona. she showsus her garden. she cultivates many sorts of edible plants. some so fleshy they taste just like meat. she trims some off and leaves them in the sea water for the day, in the sun. at night we roast them over the fire with fish and blue fruit. the grilled plants taste wonderful. fiona is very good at communicating and arthur learns how to say things in our language. the first thing he learns how to say is, life is better here.
day 1,269: more people on this island, none who i have had any trouble interacting with, unlike my life in the city, where an invite to a party would give me crippling anxiety. someone new also woke up on the island, not knowing how he got here. we all try keeping post to see how people arrive and yet it remains a mystery. each person has an anniversary of when they arrived here, which we approximate by a local plant whose leaf growth marks the days. though time feels different here we settle on using a 365 day cycle. my anniversary was yesterday. i show them a boat that another man taught me to make, having worked on it for at least 40 days. we take turns sailing along the coast and someone sing songs in the evening with a makeshift guitar. when we all retreat to our separate abodes, some traveling many days to come and see me, i feel a sense of... completeness.
day 2,601: i meet a man who has been here for more than 10 years, named Jae-Eun. he says, before i arrived on the island, there were no traditions; he had gone for a long time before meeting anyone. he met someone some years back but never saw them again. when arthur and i showed up he suddenly found there were many people on this island. friends who showed him waterfalls, beautiful animal hides, whistling rocks. he is glad there are traditions now. he would like to make one for what happens to people when they die. oddly enough i hadn't thought of death since the waking up here, even when i have been in mortal danger. we settle on a tradition like the floating lights he saw on TV once. we chose the river that runs through the grove of the goddess statue. "i have been there, and that is the perfect place." are there tears in his eyes? i can't tell for sure. it is so hot outside sweat is running down my own eyes.
day 2,845: arthur fashions for me a pen and paper. he leaves them for me in my hut with instructions on how to make pen and paper. there are symbols on the first page that i don't understand, but they are punctuated with a smiley face.
day 2,846: on my way to arthur's, i find him face down in the stream that runs down to my hut. he is still breathing.
day 3,090: arthur is better again, but he is dying. he was sick before we came here. how could i not tell? "it's very okay," he tells me. "life is better now." he is now teaching me how to decipher the symbols of his language.
day 3,220: i have learned to decipher the symbols, which read, "we can make directions, for the new people that come. in pictures and different languages. make maps. show them girl's garden so they can eat well."
day 4,001: Jae-Eun presides over the ceremony. i learn how to make holders for arthur's long burning lights so we can place them in the water. arthur's cremated remains are now in a clay ornamental jar made by another person on the island. we release him down the river of the goddess. so many people are here, and everyone is crying. as his urn gently bobs downstream i am filled with exhilaration. arthur had told me he had always wanted to leave the world better than he found it, and he feared in his old life that he would not have the chance to. he's made life better for so many here on the island. Jae-Eun places a hand on my shoulder. This is the tenth ceremony he had presided over. He gives me a knowing look. His time is nearing, too. We all follow the river down to the ocean. here we watch the lights bound on gentle waves toward the horizon. we eat and dance. we celebrate. I watch the bonfire. I feel a flicker out of the corner of my eye. When I turn, I see Arthur's cave is lit. I run away from the celebration, toward his cave, and that's when I realized the light is not emanating from his cave but from someone else's. we both startle each other. "I don't know how I got here," she says. "But when I saw lights in the distance I did my best to make my own, to signal others that I was here." I tell her that I, also, have no idea how I got here. But almost 11 years have passed and I am still glad I came.
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