As the fisherman pulled on his rod, the hook anchored in a cloud and ripped the landscape apart. A flood of light poured from the tear. He saw his daughter, nieces, nephews, late wife, and the choir in Lisbon where he sang as a young pupil. He’d torn through the time/space continuum and all his memories played before him like a Super 8 film. He never knew he’d vanished. His life projected onto the Atlantic Ocean, over and over… like the waves.