The taut muscles at the belly contract — an interlocking of curved dimensions like sculpture, a carved sandstone face from 2,000 years ago, always kept inside, never touched by the elements, the chisel marks still palpable on flesh. Then there was that time his stomach got softer and softer, the muscles began disappearing, and the howling in his belly became a numbness, a rigid stick of dullness. He tried now to think about that, but all he could think of was water, the smell of the pond where he used to spend summers as a child, years ago and an ocean away.