THE THREE VERSIONS OF ISABEL
The rain in Alaska does not wash things clean. It only makes the permafrost slicker, turns the tundra into a sponge that holds everything it touches and refuses to let go. I stood on the observation deck of the climate research station outside Fairbanks and watched the aurora borealis paint the sky in greens and purples, the colors shifting like the data on the monitors behind me, each reading...
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