After the day at sea Solomon is full of it. He brims with the buoyancy and enthusiasm of a day spent jawing with Sigmund and inhaling fresh saline air.
Everything is rosy. Heíll start this new job, decorate the bedroom, liberate the downstairs room to its rightful purpose and hold dinner parties, revisit old friends, maybe even extend the house over the kitchen, travel the world some and work for himself in due course.
"Iím in remission," he announces emphatically. "I donít have time to die. I have plans now for at least the next ten years."
Just like that.