Photo Source: Beatrice Murch, Flickr Park A late drop of sun, a dog’s breath pluming. My kids on the see-saw—a little too old, their legs bow. A small boy pushes open the café door. This is language. I feel it as I too push through it. Jetty As you wait for the play to start you hear the conversation of the women behind you: one of them had been on holiday in an Asian archipelago, where they hired a boat, she said, and crossed to another island, so blissful, and found a small jetty, an...