The Wistful Voyage

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2026-08-18 08:31:18 -

The fog rolled in from the harbor. It swallowed the pier. It swallowed the lighthouse beam. I stood on the deck of the *Mary Ann*. My father stood beside me. He held his hat. He did not wear it. The wool was wet. It clung to his skull. We were leaving. We were always leaving. The ship groaned. The ropes creaked. The water was black. It was not water. It was ink. My father was a man of the land....

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