The story: On the long, relentless climb up to Mon Bouton, young Evins held my hand a good part of the last rocky bit. In his other hand was his constant companion, a radio/MP3 player. That, and his cell phone, were just part of the incongruencies to grace my 5 weeks' stay this summer. Well, like everything else, you get used to it. Evins asked me if I like Jamaican music, reggae? At that point, 3500 feet or so, I could walk to anything that would keep me going, one foot in front of the other! The tune, "Prisoner" was GREAT, and quite in keeping with the fallen school, the collapsed church, the persistent lives that we encountered on the way up. Persistent, insistent lives.
I myself was captive, a prisoner too, this summer. But only for summer.
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