The best way to illustrate would be a seashell to your ear at 20,000 feet. Also throbbing static, alien transmissions, a needle struck to a mismanaged frequency. Really, though, it’s the inner ear, a miniature flood wreaking merry havoc to the hammer, anvil, and drum.

I am a sea captain too long from the shore, a summer kid too long in the sun. There’s a diplomatic conspiracy against standing upright, and it makes me laugh, knocking into door frames, caught up in the game.