Scourge of time and happenstance have wrought their thrashes; that we survive its attrition is by attribution of fortune and fortitude. Many miles have I roamed in search of proverbial home. Yet for now, I have given up my lodging to find myself moored to a homesick heart, harbored for the moment from the travails of life. Such is such to brave the storms as they come. It so happen that, by chance, my first week aboard this floating life is met by forecast of a full week’s storm. For a better part of 2 days already the boat has been jostled by wind and rain. There is a sad romance to it all if one pauses long enough to take in the surroundings: the flap of canvas, the creaking mast, the bangs against the hull, the thumps of stays, etc. There are a couple of minor drip leaks, but the hull is sturdy and intact; and I doubt there will be any cause for concern. It is not the most ideal of situations, but it makes for sound economic planning for one who longs to travel more. My plan is to bide the time, hoping to light propitious after.
C H R O N I C L E S . O F . T H I S . F L O A T I N G . L I F E