the flag of land- I can only imagine a voyage on the sea, when the maps had no end just rumor and conjecture, months of sway, the up and down, the only landscape that changes would be the clouds and the sun herself-
the flag of land- the source of all hope and all despair, the romance initially, the salty air, the detachment from the doldrums and table crumbs of polite society, but this is this own civil entity indeed, another womb that can breed all things, depending on what shall inhabit said room and ruminate there, I can imagine that even the largest vessel, ship, at some point becomes finite and closing in, mutiny must start in the individual mind before infecting the hive at large, but we may never know the true circumstance, we can only glance at what the the probable cause and effects were in such a situation, just as many years from now, perhaps centuries, others of us will wonder how we used these, words typed by keys, instead of just pure thoughts free flowing out, so what is our voyage of discovery? what flag of land do we seek out in this vast sea?

I often pine for the pirate life, well, at least the romantic notion of it, or at least sea faring… but the reality is so much further from the fantasy…my common comforts, well, back then, not so common… and how much would it take to push a modern man… mad?