When my mother in law took the boat to England when she was young, they anchored off Pitcairn Island to take delivery of fruit from some islanders. This is the scene on deck.
There is something about Zeeland.
The sea, vast and breathing.
The sky, open like a held breath.
The air tastes clean, touched by salt and silence.
And always—
that quiet sense of being elsewhere,
outside time,
away from the noise we carry.
We walk along the shore,
our footprints claimed and...
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