Clouds boil high into the atmosphere, pulling colors from a sun well below my horizon. Voluminous and imposing, these megaliths draw breathe from me with heavy humidity, and electricity. And while now they surge, in an hour’s time—as little fish flick over waters that lap my feet—cannonades will flash in the interior. White cracking and shuddering amidst purples, bruised yellows and reds. These are larger forces, and they are somewhere off, above the jungle. In the morning, the water will hint at the night’s activities, central rivers emptying into the bay. But for now, in darkness, all is clear.