A notebook entry.
This notebook entry was written as part of Project 1,825 Things.
Against the dark screen of my closed eyes, there is the sea again, welling up from the black, the gray and gray-blue-green, under clouds. The sea, before it pours over the cliff of the flat world and into starry darkness. It brings me once again to that little boat off the coast of Belize, that real boat, from my real life, with the waves climbing so high we were dwarfed in the valleys of them. We had gone out in that little boat, we were taken out, by a sketchy dive company from Caye Caulker. It was an island where the hard edges of something, poverty maybe, but also something worse, something like desperation, pressed itself against and through the thinning tourist veneer. You could see it if you stayed there long enough.
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