in which a fossil finds employment
<because we do not ALWAYS write about shoes or dresses, just FREQUENTLY>
Bill brought me a little patch of tiled flooring he found on a beach in Point Richmond, California. One of so many little hexagonal-tiled bathrooms in the world, it can’t be the only one to have made its way into the ocean.
It reminds me of a few enormous, crumbling houses we found in Eastern Europe and the rounded building stones that would be in the streams nearby. I remember a beach in Boston that seemed like it was made of brick fragments and nothing else, and I remember thinking, even standing on the evidence of it, that the sea coming to buildings or buildings going to the sea still seemed like completely equal impossibilities.
It’s not the concept, just the timing that’s wrong. Makes me think that the ocean is full of bathtubs and finned chevrolets and airplanes and dinette sets, all of which would be strange and too-early remnants of something that’s not finished yet.
So, inland the thing came, and now it’s my paperweight. Taking the long view of things (and accounting for the impressive longevity of rocks and such) I do sort of wonder exactly what are its chances, after passing out of my ownership, of ending up in the ocean again.