You know the sound, because it is a sound, but the sound is almost imperceptible. It, the sound, both calls and receives, yet does so in such a deep tone, you might think it's your own innards hard at work, telling you you're still alive. This sound always comes late at night or during early morning when the coastal fog seeks to hide secrets and souls. The pitch seems to emit from a poor wayward beast - which might be the case. But we hear the tanker in the thick, out there in the water, the drone of its foghorn blowing. And just by hearing and listening, we in a sense call back and have each other if for only a few passing moments.
