This morning no sound the loud breathing of the sea. Suppose that under all that salt water lived the god that humans have spent ten thousand years trawling the heavens for. We caught the wrong metaphor. Real space is wet and underneath, the church of shark and whale and cod. The noise of those vast lungs exhaling: the plain chanting of monkfish choirs. Heaven's not up but down, and hell is to evaporate in air. Salvation, to drown and breathe forever with the sea.