Dream, home, 5:08 am
A woman and I look out across a narrow stretch of water between our sandy coastline and an island. She explains that this is the mother island, precursor to all of the land that we can see.
The mother island loses more of its surface with each day. Now there is hardly any room for vegetation – some grass in its dunes and a handful of trees in a cluster near the top of its mound.
I feel something should be done to save what is left. She feels its gradual disappearance is part of the natural order of things.
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