A man in his fifties, gray hair bright in the moonlight, picks up a stone and holds it in the palm of his hand. He touches the smooth surface of the stone with fingertips and then touches the stone to his forehead and then to his lips and then puts it in his mouth on his tongue and bites down on the stone feeling the way it feels against his teeth. It’s an ordinary Hawaiian night, beautiful and clear, smell of ocean. The man is in his own backyard, fenced inside his own plot of land. Behind him, at his back, the blue light from a television flickers through a window. His wife is in there. She’s had too much to drink. She’s already at the point where she gets surly and so he’s staying away from her. He takes the stone out of his mouth and presses it against his temple, as if he might absorb some knowledge from it. He’s not unhappy. He simply is. Is in the life that came to him that is nothing like the life he once dreamed. He’s aware in moonlight. Unseen unknown. He presses the stone to his heart and feels his own heartbeat through the stone in the palm of his hand. He says aloud “I know nothing” and laughs there alone in his own backyard, unseen, unknown.