Glacier moves because gravity pulls its sheer weight downhill, like thick honey flowing. The centre goes faster because it's insulated from the friction at the rocky edges—simple physics, they say. But my ice cores tell a different story: the centre *remembers* older, purer compression, layers that slide on their own melt, a rhythm the disturbed edges forget. Every core I pull is a ledger of that inner song, not just a slab of drag.
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