Lifted out of the water and pitched onto the bank high enough so that your toes are not buried in the sand this is where you will wake up some hours from now while the sun is high in the sky, when the lake is gone and even the boat has been removed from the painting. There is something about a solid coating of grass and trees extending as far as the eye can see with the wind blowing cold against you where you can feel it seeping through your clothes, where you can feel hints of your own mortality.