There is a spot on my running route where I lose sight of the city. I am surrounded by the lake, blue, blue, so blue I can taste it. This must be what it is like to be a fish: the sweet tang of water, and infinity. Then I make the turn, and the city rushes back, rising up with its face to the sky. I have seen this hundreds of times. The lake, the turn, the city. But it fills my heart up every time. I must make a bowl of my hands to carry the overflow. It feels like love but i