Written in a green notebook while traveling
Tuesday, May 12th, 2009Sept. 07
Flying above the ocean at night, there’s nothing to see outside my window except the occasional tiny cluster of lights indicating a lone ship. Instantly my mind descends, to the rough chuck-and-slap of water against the boat’s sides. The night watchman walks with soft feet, checking the bearings, the engines, the bilge, then up on deck clutching a warm mug of coffee and breathing slowly beneath the arching starred sky, the smell of the sea on the breeze, the soft rocking of the boat, the creaks in which it speaks. Nothing else is like nightwatch on a boat.
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