The ship rolled and rocked above the frothy night waves--I never experience such a turbulent movement aboard these cruise liners before. Tonight even walking inside the ship was a feat, swaying to and fro to the ocean's mighty, fickle whims.
We went on the decks tonight-- a high one where the wind was blowing furiously. Whipping around our bodies and moving us as though we were paper dolls. As strange as this may sound, I found it glorious. And rather unsettling too. One false move, one slip in balance near the railings, and one would be lost to the crashing waves. I was surprised the crew hadn't roped the area off; it was far too precarious for the common passenger.
My sundress kept blowing up around me, and I fought vainly to keep my modesty, heh. Finally I had to tie the flowing waves of fabric around my knees with it's decorative ties. Next time, I know to dress in shorts. Oh, but how the wind was exhilarating. I have always loved the feeling of the wind.
I imagined I was a lone traveler on an olden-day steam-liner. Venturing to far away and exotic lands. Or perhaps I was a marine biologist, intent on studying the mysteries and complexities of the sea-- all along entangled in an uknown conspiracy. Or, more fanciful, I was the Sea God Poseidon's long-lost daughter that had been stolen at birth by pirates-- and now Poseidon had enlisted his loyal waves and gales to bring his daugter back home. I thought of mermaids, of sea nymphs, of Krackens, of Sea Gods. It was a lovely night for the imagination.
