Beyond My Own Horizon

The elder whispered in his ear: “Your secret name is Calibán…”

From the boy's side of the mountain, the sea marked the end of the known world.

Then a boat arrived carrying people who named the winds differently, cooked unfamiliar food, told stories the boy had never heard, and drew the same coast in a way he did not recognize.

At first the boy thought their map was wrong.

By the third day, he had begun to suspect that a horizon is not where the world ends. It is where one way of seeing it does.