Isola

by Allegra Goodman

Wind stung my eyes, and yet I could see clearly. An icy tide crusted the ocean’s edge, sank back in liquid form, then changed to ice again. I knelt and picked up glassy shards. I dropped them, and they broke upon the rocks. On the crystal shore, the shards fell sparkling. Waves rising and then crashing into glass. The tide, both dead and living. Wretched as I was, I saw and heard all this. The rush of water, and the thunder of ice breaking. I bowed my head because the world was stranger and more terrible than ever I’d imagined. The