The sensation of paddling across the river on a warm October night,
lit by the lights of the city reflected back from the clouds, Jupiter
(or was it Saturn?) poking through, hypnotized by the smooth but
significant swells of the rising tide that (counterintuitively) tries
to send us to the harbor and out to the sea, the rhythms of the
neighboring boats paddling, rising and falling, things that probably
could be captured with technology but instead will be stored in wet
memory, dreamed about on the cold days to follow.