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I made the same
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word, merely the
positioning of supple flesh.
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inside so I cannot deny where you end, where I begin is the
same when we flee these vessels together.
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moment, if you slipped into my skin for a
while, you would exhale phantom shapes against the
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there's a certain peace, a certain bond in such a surrender, a territorial rage in such ownership.
Mike
lowered his binoculars and pushed the throttle forward to its
maximum.
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say that his elderly cabin cruiser surged ahead.
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A large cloud of
black smoke and a
series of
backfires belched
from the exhaust, the ancient hull
vibrated and slowly the revs increased.
The inappropriately named
Queen of the Waves lurched and
protested as the speed built up to 15 knots.
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what that meant.
A
huge school of pilchards.
From the air the gannets were feasting and he knew, in the water below, the
game fish would be
assembling.
A great chance for a
big yellowtail or tuna.
Slightly ahead and to starboard there was a large, modern cabin cruiser; a gin-palace
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length of Mike's
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listen in.
He was
surprised to
see it this far out.
Usually the
rich owners wouldn't venture into these waters, so far from
port.
There were far
closer bays
where they could moor to
drink their champagne and nibble their salmon salads.
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The gin-palace was still 100 hundred meters away when he drew
level.
Then he
noticed two women waving.
That was strange.
The occupants of such craft
always ignored his with its fading paint and unkempt look.
Mike
looked behind to see if they were waving at
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The sea was empty.
Mike
lived out on an outer island in a settlement of
five cabins making a modest
living writing computer software via the
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book.
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other owners of the cabins were holiday
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most of the time, like
now, he had the
island to himself.
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He gave the
women a cursory wave and returned his attention to the gannets,
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