Now let’s try an ocean drama, every character a refracted light, world of enough light to see by, but only sometimes, and not enough to know, where everyone knows only this, our common limit––to be suspended in a what of such magnitude, so prone to sudden shifts, any one of which could mean sudden death, where all live by song and sing by reverberating waves in the space between continents, where the pretense of being an island would never hold, where anyone who tried would be, as the saying goes, laughed out of the water, except that of course there would be no leaving it, only a period of waiting until the waves of that laughter subsided in the dark of a rising tide, in the space before a bass line begins from the balancing currents of these suspended lives.
