the smuggler’s bible


The grove is a tight knot of gnarled wood, impenetrable unless one is schooled in the way. Desiderata holds Mosi’s hand firmly and leads her through the steps.

“We will come to the center, but not directly. First, thusly, and then turning precisely here.”

Mosi imitates the slow pirouette.

“Yes, exactly so. You are doing very well at this.”

“Are we close?”

“Not even a little bit. This shit is crazy complicated.”

“Okay, but what’s at the center?”

“It’s like a pond or something,” Desiderata says. “Sort of sucks, but it drives people nuts when you say they can’t go.”