"
You live with fear, in the grip of fear - fear of storms, fear of the immensity. What if you never escape? So you must drive your fear down, deep into your belly, and study your charts, and watch your compass, and pray for a fair wind - and hope. Pure naked fragile hope, when all your senses scream at you, lost!
At first it’s no more than a haze on the horizon, the ghost of a haze, the pure line corrupted. But clouds do that, and storms. So you watch, you watch. For a day, for another day, the stain slowly spreads along the horizon, and takes form - until on the third day you let yourself believe. You dare to whisper the word - land!
"— Elizabeth, Golden Age
