of light coming through the canopy, lighting up the water and bringing it to life.
I squatted down close to the edge of the pond, pulling out my collapsible net. I could sit like a stone for hours if that was what it took, and I relaxed, scanning the water and keeping my eyes on the shallows.
This type of observation and collection was almost meditative, but what I was meditating on, unfortunately, was An. Her speciality was on the deserts of North America, and she was spending the next semester in Hungo Pavi as a resident professor. When we had first met, she was fresh from her successful internship there, and now that we were over, she was headed back again. I wished I could ascribe her trip to a broken heart, but I knew better.
I couldnât remember whether she had broken up with me or I had broken up with her. Itâs strange that the important parts of the end were so muddled when the insignificant parts were so achingly clear. I remembered the last night we spent together before the break up, and then the awkward nights after that, when I was sleeping at Linhâs and being fed bowl after bowl of clear soup and Chinese buns. I remembered coming across a pillowcase that still smelled like her in my things, and I remembered the first disastrous time I tried to go out on a group date with my friends. It had gone so badly that I slipped away in the middle, tired and miserable in my brand new orange áo dà i.
My mind chased after the familiar thought that I would do anything to have her back, and then I realized that instead, I was thinking how wonderful it would be if I could just lose the grief, regardless of whether she came back or not.
The thought was so startling that it sent a shiver down my back, making me straighten up, and that was when I realized that I was being watched.
Across the pond, sheltered by the enormous trunk of an ancient evergreen, I could see a frilled head the size of my torso, a long and elegant neck, a body that was almost snakelike and behind it all, a tail that was surely at least three meters long.
The lizard was enormous, and though later on I would think of the Komodo dragons of Indonesia and the nearly extinct aiolosauruses of Mongolia, right then, all I could think, all I
knew
, was that I was looking at a dragon.
The dainty frills of the lizard I had bought that morning were fully realized into crests of spines that lined either side of the dragonâs face, and I stared at the animal that had surely had the myths of a civilization built on its smooth back. For better or worse, my stillness and silence is probably what drew the dragon closer.
In a single bound, it leaped across the edge of the pond, landing on all four feet. I couldnât help but notice the twisting of the long body, a gait suited to an animal that was as comfortable slithering close to the ground as it was springing on prey. Up close, I could see how lithe it was. Its body was slender rather than dense, and there was something crocodilian about its face. The eyes were amber flecked with black, and I thought blankly that I had gone looking for a match for my lizard and that I had found it.
The dragon opened and closed its mouth rapidly at me, and its frills expanded in what I realized in sudden stark and primitive terror was a threat display. I could see needle-sharp teeth, noting somewhere in a corner of my brain that there were two full rows, one behind the other. I remembered how the bite of similar animals turned septic inside of a few hours.
I stood stock still, and the dragon came closer yet, splashing water as it went, and dropping its head to look at me. The black slit pupils contracted and expanded, and I could smell its musky dry scent. Those scales that were so small on the hatchling were still small on the adult. The effect was an animal carved from jade with darker veins underneath, and for one single, insane moment I wanted to reach out and touch it.
The dragon huffed at me, almost
I squatted down close to the edge of the pond, pulling out my collapsible net. I could sit like a stone for hours if that was what it took, and I relaxed, scanning the water and keeping my eyes on the shallows.
This type of observation and collection was almost meditative, but what I was meditating on, unfortunately, was An. Her speciality was on the deserts of North America, and she was spending the next semester in Hungo Pavi as a resident professor. When we had first met, she was fresh from her successful internship there, and now that we were over, she was headed back again. I wished I could ascribe her trip to a broken heart, but I knew better.
I couldnât remember whether she had broken up with me or I had broken up with her. Itâs strange that the important parts of the end were so muddled when the insignificant parts were so achingly clear. I remembered the last night we spent together before the break up, and then the awkward nights after that, when I was sleeping at Linhâs and being fed bowl after bowl of clear soup and Chinese buns. I remembered coming across a pillowcase that still smelled like her in my things, and I remembered the first disastrous time I tried to go out on a group date with my friends. It had gone so badly that I slipped away in the middle, tired and miserable in my brand new orange áo dà i.
My mind chased after the familiar thought that I would do anything to have her back, and then I realized that instead, I was thinking how wonderful it would be if I could just lose the grief, regardless of whether she came back or not.
The thought was so startling that it sent a shiver down my back, making me straighten up, and that was when I realized that I was being watched.
Across the pond, sheltered by the enormous trunk of an ancient evergreen, I could see a frilled head the size of my torso, a long and elegant neck, a body that was almost snakelike and behind it all, a tail that was surely at least three meters long.
The lizard was enormous, and though later on I would think of the Komodo dragons of Indonesia and the nearly extinct aiolosauruses of Mongolia, right then, all I could think, all I
knew
, was that I was looking at a dragon.
The dainty frills of the lizard I had bought that morning were fully realized into crests of spines that lined either side of the dragonâs face, and I stared at the animal that had surely had the myths of a civilization built on its smooth back. For better or worse, my stillness and silence is probably what drew the dragon closer.
In a single bound, it leaped across the edge of the pond, landing on all four feet. I couldnât help but notice the twisting of the long body, a gait suited to an animal that was as comfortable slithering close to the ground as it was springing on prey. Up close, I could see how lithe it was. Its body was slender rather than dense, and there was something crocodilian about its face. The eyes were amber flecked with black, and I thought blankly that I had gone looking for a match for my lizard and that I had found it.
The dragon opened and closed its mouth rapidly at me, and its frills expanded in what I realized in sudden stark and primitive terror was a threat display. I could see needle-sharp teeth, noting somewhere in a corner of my brain that there were two full rows, one behind the other. I remembered how the bite of similar animals turned septic inside of a few hours.
I stood stock still, and the dragon came closer yet, splashing water as it went, and dropping its head to look at me. The black slit pupils contracted and expanded, and I could smell its musky dry scent. Those scales that were so small on the hatchling were still small on the adult. The effect was an animal carved from jade with darker veins underneath, and for one single, insane moment I wanted to reach out and touch it.
The dragon huffed at me, almost