A Breath of Plankton Soup

Above the pitted black coast, at the house that looks accidentally built, the loodlights have been left on. The owner is not there. He only comes during the winter, when the waves rise and he can pick his way down the cliff to ride the surf off the reef, some two hundred yards offshore. Now, in summertime, the ocean is sleepy under round, slow swells that gently slap the cliff.

At night, the floodlights draw zooplankton to the shallows in clouds so thick you can see the water turn to soup[…]