Lamb stands by the ocean but cannot see the ocean. He can hear it somewhere in front of him, crashing, brushing against the sand behind the shroud mist and fog. He watches the fog for thirty minutes and wonders what the water looks like. He grows dizzy and he begins to shiver. He stares into the haze and feels blind. Lamb thinks about his life and wonders why he feels the way he feels. He thinks, “When did things stop happening chronologically?” Mieka walks up behind him and asks if he’s ready to leave. Lamb thinks “Yes” but says “No” and doesn’t understand why. Mieka puts her arm around Lamb’s waist and says, “We can’t even see anything anyways” then says “And I’m cold.” Lamb says, “I like the ocean.” Mieka says, “The ocean isn’t the ocean. It is the bay.” Lamb thinks, “But it’s connected to the ocean.” He closes his eyes and holds them shut. He counts the seconds as they pass, then loses count. He opens his eyes and feels disoriented. Gradually, a shape appears in the fog before him. A cockroach made of cloud crawling up wide cables of the Golden Gate Bridge, milky and evanescent their gray reach. The cockroach drifts and melts away slowly. Lamb turns around and says, “Okay.” He feels the planet slope beneath his feet. He feels it tilt one way, then another. Lamb wonders what he would be able to see he if it was a clearer day. He imagines taking a deep breath and blowing the mist away, pushing the grey clouds back towards the Pacific. He wonders if he could suck the entire front into his lungs and make the sun shine in, he thinks, “Like a Greek god, or something.” He is overcome by the urge to see nature defied. He wants to watch the sun to bake the earth and boil the bay. He wants to see the water bubble and steam. Lamb thinks he would like to dive inside the boiling surf and melt. He thinks, “Like a cockroach” then says “And then I could evaporate” softly beneath his breath.