My oldest friend is visiting home, and we spend the afternoon discovering new pathways in the park, discovering washed-up bones and watching people fish in the river. We follow that river and find a spot to sit, and we sit talking for a very long time, as we tend to do. People walk past us with hiking poles, with dogs. Out of the corner of my eye I track the sun sinking behind the trees. As we talk, I watch the river for so long that the ground seems to move if I switch my gaze. My eyes have sea legs.