as related to me by the sea-captain M.— C.—, in a tavern in the port of Hamburg, in the summer of the year before the plague Once upon a time the charter tallship A.— was moored in the port of T.— in the mountainous fjords of the far north. Upon completing their duties in between…
In the grass and over and under every corrugated-tin fishing shack and ramshackle dinghy lounged cats: cats rummaging through piles of fish heads, cats…
The ship sailed out of Harlingen late at night with the high tide, the ragged end of the waning blood moon swollen huge and low over the water, the…
On March 8th of last year I walked out of my apartment in New York for what would be the last time, although I didn’t know that then.
The sky was dense with white-spun clouds and everything looked like a black-and-white picture. White snow, grey stone, grey water, grey light. “Hey…
There are a lot of sea-stories about Heinke, all of them as wonderful as they are true.
The very first thing I did my very first day working on a tallship was nearly cut the tip of my finger off slicing limes in the middle of the breakfast…
For twelve hours a week I struggle through their picnics (“Don’t forget the Käse, Tim! Ha ha ha ha ha!”) and job interviews and endless shopping trips…
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future recuperation