- Speakers
- IndraHost
As we begin, find somewhere still.
Settle down and close your eyes.
You step onto a narrow wooden boardwalk.
It's running through the middle of a mangrove forest.
Your footsteps are hollow on the slats.
The air is warm and dense, thick with salt, tidal mud, and the green smell of a million leaves.
Somewhere behind you, faint, the smell of the fishing jetty, diesel and ice, and the morning's catch.
Below you, the water is dark and slow, lapping at the roots.
Somewhere under the boards, crabs are clicking.
You look at the roots.
Thousands of gray arched stilts rising out of the water, crossing over and under each other with no pattern at all.
The canopy overhead filters the sun down into soft green light.
You stop and lean on the railing.
The wood is rough and unsanded, damp with moss under your palms.
Down in the shallows, a mudskipper hauls itself out onto the mud.
It sits there a moment and slides back in.
You look closer at the mud.
Fiddler crabs.
Dozens of them.
Each working a patch no bigger than your hands.
One oversized claw waving at nothing you can see.
When your shadow crosses them, they vanish into their holes all at once.
and then they come back out a moment later as if nothing happened.
If someone handed you this forest and told you to tidy it, you'd know where to start.
Straighten the rows.
As we begin, find somewhere still.
Settle down and close your eyes.
You step onto a narrow wooden boardwalk.
It's running through the middle of a mangrove forest.
Your footsteps are hollow on the slats.
The air is warm and dense, thick with salt, tidal mud, and the green smell of a million leaves.
Somewhere behind you, faint, the smell of the fishing jetty, diesel and ice, and the morning's catch.
Below you, the water is dark and slow, lapping at the roots.
Somewhere under the boards, crabs are clicking.
You look at the roots.
Thousands of gray arched stilts rising out of the water, crossing over and under each other with no pattern at all.
The canopy overhead filters the sun down into soft green light.
You stop and lean on the railing.
The wood is rough and unsanded, damp with moss under your palms.
Down in the shallows, a mudskipper hauls itself out onto the mud.
It sits there a moment and slides back in.
You look closer at the mud.
Fiddler crabs.
Dozens of them.
Each working a patch no bigger than your hands.
One oversized claw waving at nothing you can see.
When your shadow crosses them, they vanish into their holes all at once.
and then they come back out a moment later as if nothing happened.
If someone handed you this forest and told you to tidy it, you'd know where to start.
Straighten the rows.
The rest of this transcript — segmented and speaker-labeled, so you land on the exact moment something was said
Search every transcript — by keyword, by phrase, or by meaning, across every show Radar indexes
Trends — what is surging across podcasts, measured against its own baseline
Alerts — when a name you follow appears in a newly indexed episode
No account is needed to search Radar.