Something that you realize in traveling is the similarity of things. Lake Michigan is not the Pacific Ocean, even if you can’t see the shore – but the same face is present there, the same quality of massive amounts of water under massive space.
Somehow I always imagined the fact of god to be the ocean hanging above me, fathoms beyond fathoms deep, a million tons of seawater with infinite… potential, I suppose. So full. So deep.
I miss the ocean. I miss seeing the curve of its face, the blinding glittering radiance of sun on water that burns the retina, the feeling of space.