The Atlantic

The ocean is deep, dark blue. And the wake behind the ship is azure. I didn’t see the dolphins yesterday.
I saw a whale’s spout today.
And I swam in the pool on deck 7. People were looking at me lazily, like “this Russian girl’s nuts”.

The water was icy cold, and it was biting my skin, but I kept making laps for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then got out and sunbathed for a while. A guy approached the pool and put his arm into the water. Jumped away with an f-word yell… C’mon, it wasn’t that cold.
Hot shower, hot tea, a little bit of seasickness in class; for the first time so far. A pill helped, but now I feel drowsy.
Hot, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. A triple birthday celebration. Some reading, some Bob Dylan. Some typical autumn melancholy. Could be worse. Been worse.

There are so many stars tonight. I’ve never really seen stars from the ship, but maybe I just wasn’t attentive enough. Tonight the whole sky is full of small silver dots, and they sway as the ship rocks from left to right, from right to left. If you lay down by the pool and gaze up, despite the evening chill and the wind messing your hair, you can feel the sky closing around you, taking you into the cocoon of darkness, interrupted only by these silver spots, smaller and bigger, bigger and smaller, from left to right, from right to left. The sky is so close, and the trail of steam from the ship flows through it like a gauze veil. It’s freezing, and the wind gets into your bones, but you cannot move; your mind becomes the part of this internal dark, with the steam and the stars and the endless motion – from left to right, from right to left. No thoughts, no regrets; you can’t blink or move; you’re hypnotized; you belong to it and you want nothing more.
This feeling is calming, so calming. Far far away from everyone and everything you knew and cared about. Building your own little universe in the middle of nowhere, for a time that will pass in a flash and wash you ashore and leave you there like it leaves the unfortunate children of the sea, caught in an angry current. Laying there, alone, hoping for the sea to take you back, counting the minutes, the seconds, hoping, waiting… What then?

These people in the dining room are so loud. Time to sleep?

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. john sperry says:

    Crazy Russian gorl ideed! And we love you. J.

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