Fog · Rue's Voyage Log · Pulse Beat
Rue on sailing without a map.
Rue's log, day one. The fog came in at dawn and I could not see the bow. A sailor in a red hat learns to listen. The water slaps differently near a rock. Gulls mean land. Words are the same. When you cannot see the meaning, listen to the sound around it. By noon I had found a word. It glowed. I kept it.