Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 24 July 2025 at 10:04
It’s midnight. I’m on the Princess of Scandinavia in the middle of the North Sea between England and Sweden. I'm on the top deck shaking off the two malt whiskeys I drank as I shared a deep conversation with a couple; two schoolteachers from Södertälje whose names have long escaped me.
With no light pollution, it’s as black as night and all the stars are out. More than I have ever seen. I have an epiphany: Only I have seen this exact star filled sky. No one on the entire planet is looking at what I’m looking at. I think of my father whom I lost when I was 12 years old. I muse:
Fleeting Thought
It’s midnight. I’m on the Princess of Scandinavia in the middle of the North Sea between England and Sweden. I'm on the top deck shaking off the two malt whiskeys I drank as I shared a deep conversation with a couple; two schoolteachers from Södertälje whose names have long escaped me.
With no light pollution, it’s as black as night and all the stars are out. More than I have ever seen. I have an epiphany: Only I have seen this exact star filled sky. No one on the entire planet is looking at what I’m looking at. I think of my father whom I lost when I was 12 years old. I muse:
“Meet me amidst the ocean,
Under the Northern sky
To the light of constellations
As our restless souls pass by.”
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