Tempest

This is the only entry I wrote concerning our cruise trip earlier this month. It was late at night and in the midst of drowsiness, so it may not quite be coherent.

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.