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It could be called pigment, watercolor, skycolor, light . . . But what matters to me is the impact it has on my mood. How can I not feel uplifted by this brightness? What is this . . . a doorway into what?
Passage for pilots, of course. But what a vessel! An uberbox enveloping many smaller boxes, a different set of boxes shuffled together at regular intervals, probably never again to coexist. An early 21st-century ark of disposable stuff never paired but rather mass-produced in the millions. And a disposable ark to move them over the deeps. Its stern marked with a place of convenience, a place having no other meaning, no real significance. They might as well be lunar like Western Mare Frigoris or Sinus Asperitatis West…
unlike Charles D. McAllister, whose portrait probably hangs on a wall somewhere or languishes in a scrapbook.
Here’s a nameless vessel, at least from this perspective, although some of us know its name. Any guesses?
Genco Success: for the observer, just a bulker name, but for crew who live aboard, rich positive or maybe negative connotations.