He imagined Lake Superior in his collins glass and his other thoughts cowered. The mind shivered. The lake had long ago innervated his chest and spoke to him in harmonics at a distance. It would stir the strings suspended between them and call him home. He was born of a cauldron on the beach, where polished black stone entered the great furnace and produced men enamored with and endentured to the waves. Imagine the air is your captor. You are suspended in it and at the mercy of its decision to enter your chest. So the lake cradles its sons.