i was told about stories of trees. they would squeeze their boots to reach the other side of the ocean. obviously i said branches, not boots. spasmodic boots, twigs i mean, sewing versions of themselves in skeins, and each time they threw to the ocean. it was many times, over the years. so many it was forming a mount, then a mountain, and then an island, which buried whales beneath its roots. surface, i mean. the goal was to reach the other shore, and, without a shadow of a doubt, not sink. but they sank to another land, still unknown …