Back in New York, far from the Caribbean's emerald hills and larimar skies, and I'm sorting through thousands of photos (3,500 images), and wondering when the sea will call again.
The book I'm currently reading "The Sea is My Brother" by Jack Kerouac has a passage that beautifully describes the feeling of being out on the water. I'm pairing it with a photo from sunrise which includes the wake from our ship on a calm morning.
"...the sleepy thrum of the propeller churning in the water below, the soothing rise and fall of the ship, the sea stretching around the horizon, the rich, clean sound of the bow splitting the water . . . and the long hours lounging on the deck in the sun, watching the play of the clouds, ravished by the full, moist breeze. A simple life! A serious life! To make the sea your own, to watch over it, to brood your very soul into it, to accept it and love it as though only it mattered and existed!"