A beautiful scene. The boat is heeling in the evening breeze. The mainsail is hauled tight. And all this in front of a romantic sunset. But something is wrong. No spray is flying, no bow is cutting through the waves, no whooshing, no splashes – no movement at all. No sound. A still. Surreal. I…
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It is dark. Pitch black. Impervious. Only scattered low declination stars hint at the existence of more boats at this anchorage. I know there are dozens. Most of them have their anchor lights on, but not all of them. During the day I spent some time memorizing a path through this maze of boats and…
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