Eric Coleman sought an escape to any life but his own. He found it in the Pacific Ocean. He sat atop a wind turbine, the blue horizon of the tide rippled in calm ebbs and flows. His heart calmed with the persistence of the waves. The breeze seeped cool air off the ocean surface. His unkempt, sandy hair, blustered as the wind surged. His loose, blue chambray shirt slapped against the harness around his waist. The straps of the harness anchored him to the nacelle, the turbine shell. Below that s. . .