Dillard writes of the difficulty of conceiving there being a universe of nothing that eventually formed into something, so she compares this process to “a limitless slosh of sea” and the matter as “volcanic lava [...] hardening mute and intractable on nothing’s lapping shore” (113), creating a series of islands like the Galápagos. Dillard describes her fascination with the rocks on the Galápagos Islands, noting that they are worth the trip alone, even though they are also “animal gardens” home to a variety of creatures, some of which exist nowhere else in the world. Dillard admires various animals on the islands, and she marvels at the tameness of the animals, though she keeps her distance: “We people don’t walk up and pat each other; enough is enough” (117). The sea lions on the island are particularly sociable, surrounding people while they swim, playing games, and resting against Dillard to nap. Dillard notes that not many people come to the Galápagos and that very few people live there, though she describes Alf Kastdalen, the owner of a 400-acre farm, and his house full of books.