though I haven’t been
to a Waterfire in years (!), but the next one is this weekend, so . . . maybe, perhaps, I hope. ⦿ Since they happen at night, I don’t have many photographs — good photographs, I mean — night pictures can be tricky. ⦿ Granted, gondolas, albeit authentic, in a river in downtown Providence
are not like gondolas
in the Canaletto, or any canal in Venice, for that matter. Especially when the acqua alta takes over the sidewalks. ⦿ Nevertheless, Waterfire is a bit magical and mystical. Truly. It is in Mine To Give twice.
(if i go to waterfire this weekend + get good photographs, i will post)
the night is clear,
though a thin smoky cloud hovers not too far away. People crowd the sidewalks and cross the street, zigzagging from one side to the other. Parents push strollers. Children hold hands to stay together. No one’s in a hurry.
his gaze wanders from one side of the street
to the other. To the State House and the train station behind them, to the crowd that spreads as far as he can see. Music, dark and deep, in some foreign language, reverberates in the air. They walk around the basin, then towards the row of fires, and stop under a bridge,
the passage lit with candle-filled lanterns
A gondola drifts by. Water laps against the wall. A song by Dead Can Dance echoes over the city. “This is surreal.” Sparks fly from the cauldrons and run over them, like lightning bugs afire. Miriam leans on the railing and inhales the smoky scent. “The smell reminds me of my grandfather. He had land with fruit trees and flowers, and when he cut and burned the brush, it smelled like this.”
is your grand-fa-ther alive?
“No, they passed away within a month of each other.” | “Who?” | “My mother’s parents died one after the other.” A tiny speedboat zips by and a thin man, masked, dressed in what looks like a white clown costume, throws Miriam a carnation. Sinjin grabs it in midair and gives it to her. “Thank you. It’s Ok.
it was better that way; he wouldn’t have lived happily without her
They move on, pass a busy outdoor restaurant, and wait to cross a street. She’s quiet. Then Sinjin spots a mermaid. “What is that?” Her eyes slide to him sideways. “Don’t you have mermaids in Scotland, or just sea monsters, you goon?” He laughs. “We do,
