Before returning to Kingston, you grant yourself the pleasure of a swim at Boston Bay. The waves are high and some surfers are out on their boards, while families with young children populate the shoreline like human bouquets. You swim out far, farther than may be wise, and as you start to manage the waves, to dive under their consecutive pulse and pull, your mind begins to spill forth with all that you have seen and heard during these past days. The priest cradling the Bible as if it were a small child. Yaadcore’s baby daughter clutching the cross around his neck as he spoke to you about Marcus Garvey’s Black Star Line. Brother Levi’s eyes emanating one magnetic truth after another. A lionized Billy Mystic communing with the sea. Everyone rocking to their own frequency. Everyone looking like Jesus. “Rasta is the future and the future is now,” I-Nation said. And are we really spirits inhabiting the flesh? And if so what do our past lives look like? What do our future selves hold in store? As the water ebbs around you, you begin to wonder if under the universe’s rhythm we return to each other in waves.