It was the night of the supermoon and the three of us took to the water like wild nymphs full of giddy, nervous energy, offerings in hand. Three figs, one for each of us, and the branch of a fig tree that was collateral in our foraging. Our hands found each other, trusting and certain. It was just us, our breathing, the water, and the moon as witness. Swimming in dark moonlit water that felt like shadows and looked like glassy, luminous mercury made me feel like I was soaking up the moon’s beams and power. I pumped my arms as though I was making a snow angel on the…