föstudagur, júlí 13, 2007


The rain sounds and the waves slap. Diesel fume from the grinding screw drives our noisy, shallow-draft hull. Meantime, only the breath of that great, black body beside us can be heard. It blows vapor, draws air with a rush: a titan's bellows. It rises to the surface and slips back below, slick and silent, draught like a ghost, tail like a wing a parting salute.

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