The low-lying tables were lit by lamps that dropped from the branches of a banyan tree.Customers ate beneath patches of light.Focused.Intent.As agreed the waiter led me past the tables to a clearing,and a long metallic storage tank.He drew back the latch. Darkness,and the gentle slap of water.It was there. Old,and patient.Patient enough to survive the blotting of the sun.Patient enough to see the passing of the dinosaurs.Perhaps patient enough for that prison. Stood still beside the dark I felt the pull of another language.I could’ve lowered my hand into the tank. I wanted to feel its bite.I wanted to hear its music.