Fourteen days at sea taught me something I never expected to learn.
The ocean had a rhythm.
Not a metaphor or some poetic observation — an actual, physical rhythm that the ship moved to. Rise and fall, rise and fall. The creak of wood against water. The snap of sails catching wind. Even the shouting of crew members seemed to follow patterns, the same calls repeated at the same times each day.
'If someone told me two months ago that I'd be analyzing ocean patterns while hanging off the side of a ship trying not to vomit... actually, no. I wouldn't have believed any part of that sentence.'
