The Pale Meridian
Act I Did the water rise because we stopped mending the dikes, or because we stopped speaking?‌​⁠⁠‌‌‌​​‌​⁠‍⁠‌‍​​​‌‌⁠‍⁠⁠⁠​​​​​​​​​​​​​​‌⁠‌‍⁠‌⁠‍⁠‍‌‍‍‍‍​⁠​⁠​⁠‍‌​‍⁠​​⁠‍‍‍​​ Teunis van Houten asked the question aloud in the empty customs shed, the fog already burned off by ten, leaving the polder landscape like a volcano’s old skirt of ash. The river did not answer; it simply refused to recede, a...
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