The Dancing Twins by Bryan Hewitt

Before I stepped onto the airplane I had been exploring the moss and lichens covering some of the most ancient stones on the North American continent in the foothills of the Appalachians. When my feet reached the earth once again as I walked off the steel and plastic of the flight and onto the former wetlands at the back of the bay a few miles form the Pacific Ocean, I immediately felt a gap, a change, a divide that somehow separated the land I had walked off of that morning from the land I had just touched. It was one of those slippery moments that I know are important, but refuse to explain themselves unless I stop what I am doing and carefully pay attention. I took the time and here is what I learned.