Maybe if she was devious; maybe if she could sneak and hide. Maybe if she loved one single woman, and not a mix of several. But even then, she would not have known how to leap from her solid and rewarding existence into the terrifying unknown. She loved women. But there were all kinds of things she loved and could not have. Best to have the things that already overwhelmed her with their amplitude, the things she already could never exhaust. She had the ocean. And the ocean absorbed all her hope and excitement, all her panic and pain and love, into a place far larger than anything human.
