When it breaks, I cry. The wave flows out of me. My breath slows, and I can feel the tears on my cheeks, hot, though I am not aware of them leaving me or even of any feeling of sadness. I am a sack into which the wave has broken, and now it must come leaking out of me. I have been a vessel; I am now only a throughway. Who I am outside this feeling becomes as irrelevant as time.
