Were they addressing the spirits that dwell here? Or were they the spirits?
Still, I’ve often wondered if Nature isn’t one step ahead of us. Do you think she might, out of sheer spite, decide to wait until these places empty out and close their gates for the day before letting down her guard and revealing her best?
...the wave had crested right over us, filling the treetops, inundating us in a raucous chorus of dry, raspy twittering.
By the time we'd worked our way up to the highest spot on the site, I noticed that the few other visitors had all left; it was already after four. The prospect occurred to me of being locked overnight inside what might be a pretty eerie place in the dark. Should we rush out? Then we remembered we’d actually parked outside the gate and could easily scale the flimsy fence. We looked at each other, at the timeless structures surrounding us, and then at the gorgeous view across the lush gorge. What the hell, we decided, they'll just have to come get us. (In fact, we didn’t see them again.)
Now that we had the place to ourselves, everything felt different. It was that rare sense of privilege you experience when you have something really good all to yourself. We sat in silence for several minutes, soaking in the stillness, communing in our own ways with whatever spirits might still dwell there.
|Illustration: Katy Farina|