ABSTRACT
From the air the island lies like a sleeping dragon: its back humped in a roughly triangular shape, tail curled up to the east, head stretched out to the west. From the air the dragon’s green hide is lavishly scarred with brown, scored with gray and white. The pattern on its haunch is the airport’s dovetailed runways, the long east-west line across its belly the Edgartown-West Tisbury road. Cars move along this and the other lines like dragon mites.
