Hanging onto the oar while the matron saint of seafaring and commerce is doing all the rolling, is a sure way to get seasick. To be seasick is to be utterly disoriented, nauseated within oneself and with one’s environment. And to be dis-oriented, is when I intended to reach the Orient but stray somewhere else, with impeccable conviction. And in my delirium, I heard her whispering different stories to each seagull that lands on her. They are glorious tales of the unstoppable human spirits of adventures, and tales of some dark and very dark sides of testosterone. All that has served my ancestors and yours to expose a bit of humanity as it was! As it is! And as we shall will it to be!


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