The rocks don’t move, the water moves. Eventually the rock gives way, moves. Its a race. I don’t know who is winning or whether I am the water or the rock. I feel like I am unmoored. The tides flow with unquestioning purpose. I don’t. The rock are decided. I’m not. I feel more like the fog flowing over the rocks and the water, at the mercy of the wind, the water, the rock: generalized and thin.