Wheeling Gull Isle belief

He was grinning at the suggestion, and looking out at the northern cape of the island with a renewed enthusiasm. He saw nothing out there but water and rage, but inside himself he felt calm and content; perhaps by singing he could calm the sea itself?

Maybe if I can sing loud enough, my anaa will hear me. It was a vain wish, of course. Not only was his voice too weak to contend with the roiling sea, but he would be sending his messages away to the endlessness around them. It would be like singing to the dead - or from the dead, more like.