The sailor groaned. If this was his joy, what would his sorrow resemble? ‘Look over there,’ said the small, dark girl. The sailor followed the line of her arm to the end of her pointing finger. She showed him a beach. Two people were crossing it side by side. They passed over sand dunes as though they were not there and walked through the water at the edge of the shore as though it had no depth. The sailor could see them clearly. They were magnified as though viewed through a lens. They crossed the sea and they emerged from the water onto another beach. The sailor saw that they had a wooden mallet and a large wooden bowl. He watched as they pounded the contents of the bowl with the mallet until it formed a large white mass. The sailor felt himself choke. He felt a pressure on his face, as though the large white mass was smothering him. ‘Tell them to stop,’ he begged the small, dark girl. ‘Please. Tell them. I can’t breathe.’ But the small, dark girl was gone again. In the place where she had stood, motionless on her bicycle, was a light blue bottle.