by Lewis Gesner
A boy was born to a simple woman out of wedlock. The father was an elderly fisherman. He divorced his wife and lived with the woman and their son in the work shed where he mended nets. There was a loft space with a triangular window where the child would sleep and look out at night over the harbor and boats of the simple port village where he had been born. As a toddler, he walked a dirt drive that ran along the shore and connected the fish shack to the road. One morning, an out-of-towner, a visiting summer folk happened by and stopped to talk to him. What was his name? Did he like boats? Did he live here? She was dressed in a long dress and wearing a shawl, perhaps she was going to a relative’s wedding, or visiting a local church. After a few moments, she stood up from her kneeling and continued on. The boy remembered her hair, it was golden, backlit by the sun. Her shawl billowed out in the breeze. He thought it was wings. She was an angel! When he went to bed that night, he saw her flying over the waters of the harbor and sprinkling it with magic sparkling lights. 

文｜Lewis Gesner
是的，它是一種大樂透，一種人生的大樂透。

By Lewis Gesner

You can only imagine the things that fall into the sea. Sometimes, we may have a glimpse. If you follow the rocky coastline of the state, or know the winding long footpath through the dense forest, you may discover that window to the ocean’s harbored secrets. It is in the form of a waterspout. A waterspout is a column of water forming from the sea. It may be a weather phenomenon, like a water tornado, or it may be like the case in point. This spout was formed by the action of the waves at high tide. A narrow tunnel formed through the erosion of the granite cliff at the water’s edge which allows for water to rush through it with great force when the tide is just right. This can last for up to twenty minutes, that a column of water will shoot straight up into the air from the tunnel, over spectators’ heads, and soak them like in a heavy rain. Sometimes, it throws things up from the sea.

by Lewis Gesner

There were two of them (known). They were identical twins, but there was a third, unknown, except to them. Their names were Tim and Tom Kern, and they were fine artists. They painted together, and it was the perfect gimmick for the art patrons and promoters. Their art world name was T and T which was how they were promoted and how they signed all of their work. Two was perfect symmetry. They had become notorious to interviewers for finishing each other’s sentences as if they shared a mind. The balance between them, in speech or in their presence, was uncanny, as if there were something  invisible. Maybe it was in part a shared secret, that there was a third, unseen. 

by Lewis Gesner

The toothless lady wandered here and there on a regular circuit each day. She was unfriendly, and sometimes said mean things. After her walks, she’d go back to her house, a cement block building with no windows and thick cold walls. Some secretly called her a witch.