At this point, having been out here for months, with no lease in Seattle anymore and no exact "home" to go home to anymore, I start wondering about where I really live and what is really mine. I feel like I'm hovering, floating between the ship and some other place that only exists inside my head. Then I'll look out at the flat Pacific and realize, I'm sort of nowhere right now. No longer with the urge to bolt from the ship life, I wonder how long I can remain living in nowhere. It's comforting, to live in a shrunken world that's inside of much bigger one. And it's certainly not lonely anymore.