1/14/10: Cliffs

At the southern cliffs I forgot all the troubles of the fields. I forgot that only hours ago I was cutting vines in tangled orchards. I forgot of the bizarre and tainted Hawaiian culture. I forgot the past and looked at the brim of this planet spinning slowly into the future.

After a tortuous day of pulling weeds from their strangling grip on orange trees, I walked home slowly and shirtless. Hans said that we were going to watch the sunset at South Point. Within a crew of six there are hardly and exclusive invitations. We rolled won the barren road in a borrowed pickup truck. There were high and white wind turbines waving on the west side of the road. As we went further and further South the amount of vegetation around us quickly dwindled. I felt hair tickling my eyes in the wind.

And then we were there, at the edge of the country and the Earth. There was no gentle ramp into the sea. High and sharp cliffs of black rock loomed over blue water. I remembered my awe at the rocky cliffs and thunderous waves along the Southern coast of Maine, and realized how dwarfed they were by these monstrous black walls. The curve of the Earth was clear, slowly moving from the light of the sun, and to the North was the misty mass of the giant volcano. Watching the sun set was like looking at the future, at a spectrum of colors glowing in the sky like something I can only imagine.