Sin is an ocean. There are days and even weeks that seem to quietly, almost unnoticeably drift dreamingly over her like a thin raft. But it always begins this way; drifting with a sort of silence in my head as though some music had just stopped. Something is missing. I begin to look around and wonder, “What’s wrong? What’s missing?” I’m left out, left-behind, forgotten. I feel bored. “I need to do something,” I think to myself, “I need to get something going here. I shouldn’t feel this… Old.” Then a sort of parade begins. A beautiful thought, an innocent touch, someone smile’s. I focus on it. I’m on my hands and knees now staring into the water. I check the temperature... feels nice… warm... I ease myself in.