My great uncle sold meats, cheeses, and breads at a market he owned on the corner of Chestnut Street. He would talk to the lions standing in line at the store counter, waiting for their fresh morning bread. My great uncle was a prophet. He would sing and dance and stand on his head on the turbulent waters of the North Sea. He lived in a shoe until the age of twelve and could strum a ukulele with his feet. My great uncle was my father. I sometimes didn’t understand him. He was a terrible liar and a womanizer. He was a romance novelist and a Chinese warrior. I once saw my great uncle turn a shade of blue, gray, and yellow but never once did he judge another man’s clothing.