The sea is not pulled up so much as gathered. Twice a day the water leans toward the moon, and the whole coast leans with it: the harbour empties, the boats settle on their keels, the gulls walk where an hour ago they swam. Nothing here was asked to move, and everything did. I have lived by this water for eleven years and I still check the tide table before I check the weather, because the weather only changes the day, and the moon changes the shape of the town. This is an essay about living somewhere that rearranges itself around a light in the sky.