The moon loved the ocean before he loved himself. Before he first stirred in his mother’s womb, before his father uttered his first cry, before the great rain fell on what was to be earth, before the idea of life had said anything above a whisper, the moon loved the ocean. The sun was a different story. She grew on him, little by little, until one day he realized he never wished to part with her. That, of course, was not to be.