Stavanger Bay to light a candle is to cast a shadow

From the very first word that came out of his mouth, Miranda knew that the voice could only come from a lifetime of standing by the sea, watching the tide roll in with horizons of dark shingles and sails, watching the waves flake up against rock like pie crust. 

With a generous heaping of teasing incredulity, he says, So you're an honest-to-god sailor. Or wickie. Or whatever it is... 

I'm from way up north, in the mountains. Alaska had gone fragmented in his mind, solid forms blurring together, a swath of greys, browns, midnight suns and polar nights. His time with the Gray Brothers was suddenly so insubstantial, it could be torn into piece by a single gale. Three years, turned to dust. He turns his face to the ocean and lets the salt sting his cheeks before adding, You ever seen something big? Like a whale?