Why?

Force 7 Winds On An Atlantic Crossing If you would know the age of the earth, look upon the sea in a storm. The grayness of the whole immense surface, the wind furrows upon the faces of the waves, the great masses of foam, tossed about and waving, like matted white locks, give to the …

The Waiting Game

At this point we loathe one another.  We have shared our mouldering paperbacks, played cards until the outcome of every game is disputed, glugged gallons of Chilean wine, gorged ourselves on lamb stew, and suffered stomach maladies side by side.   He sneers at me.  I sneer back.  We are entombed in our fetid, nylon shelter.  …