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Show 165 there is fast collision all across the water. Or climbed up toward the high peaks in the state where it seems like every tree has been hit by lightning at some point. But the place he chose was quiet. The distant traffic was just a hum. And if you walked to the shore, there was a very slow rhythm to the water's movement, if you held your breath and listened. It was calming. It felt as though if I just stood there, waited and watched, the water would creep up to my waist before I realized it. Tamara saw three small red flags in the distance and we walked toward them. I have sometimes felt like I'm one loud noise at the bus stop away from gathering my things, walking into my apartment, closing the blinds, boarding up the doors, and other dramatic gestures designed to close up the outside world. I've even thought of a way of sustaining it: grow a beard and tell the children coloring with sidewalk chalk below the balcony that I am a prophet and I just had a vision from God, who said you need to take groceries and liquor from your parents and throw them up to me or else bum in hell forever. I haven't seen much in their sidewalk chalk art to suggest they were bright enough to see through a beard and a few Lo and Beholds. So three weeks after Steve stood in front of one of Great Salt Lake's fingers, set his glasses down on a rock, shot himself between the eyes, and fell over face first while the traffic he had just exited from continued to zoom by, I was not only disliking myself for how functional I was remaining, I was |