The boat is damaged, bruised.
Her name is Gomati. She is married to the water. The relationship has become more abusive than usual, lately. The top of her mast hangs broken and wind has made his way through her bright blue sail, which was once her glory, perforating it.
The air seems to be clearing a bit now. A small ray of golden sunshine after days of nothingness. She moves through the mist, despite her cracked hull. A shadow, a glimmer behind it, she has seen the land after a month. It was always good to her, tending to her wounds. Few moments of respite.
The land cannot keep her for long though and she has come to accept that.
There isn't any purpose she could serve here, besides becoming home to the waterfowl who would wake her up every morning with it's quacking.
She has her own home to return to; the sea.
She is married to the water.
