Wet stars in the sky

Tonight ringing in my ears are the songs of sea faring men. Call to keep in time, and move with the sea. Lifting spirits to the sun on a damp day at sea. The smell of soup and ale fill my nostrils. salt of the Briney sea cakes the edges of my boot cuffs. We landed a whale the other day, so there’s lots of meat and oil for warm festivities. The men are all drunk even though the rain still pours, there’s no concern for the evening. The crow in the nest is sober and watching hardy. He owes the crew a vigilant night for saving his ass at port. He caused more than enough trouble with the locals. The captain had to work hard to ease their hearts that we were leaving at Dawn’s break. Daft bastard has a way with the lassies, but needs to to watch his fucking oiled silver tongue.

2 bells toll from the deck. Best see what the captain needs.


Published by Snowy Owl

There was a lot more written here before. Then I saw it was irrelevant. I am just another person with an autoimmune disease and spectrum ”disorder” who is highly sensitive to their environment. I thought I would write a few things down, so here you go. Swim at your own risk!

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