i was reading the place of shells when a memory appeared of driving on a fire trail searching for the river outside nanaimo, listening for the sound and hearing water coming from all directions but the fire trail meandered its own way and then hearing the sound of leaves that sounded like water in the air all around us we came to a turnaround with a frosted mattress in the center glowing in the headlights in the moonlight and we got out and walked around it and laughed and the sound we thought of as water was the sound of the trees laughing. beyond our sight behind the trees and the sound of laughing was a vanishing point that was invisible and when we turned around it went into our interior bouncing along the fire trail, our lights bouncing in the continuing trees, though this was a long time ago.