Otherwise known as the bow of a ship. This one was in a dry dock, about fifteen feet above my head.
It is my favourite boat in the boatyard. It’s always there; I think its restoration is a lifetime’s work. I don’t know whose lifetime though. Perhaps, one day, I will ask.
I am aware I don’t have much to say for myself lately. It’s a funny thing, but when I’ve an awful lot to say, I am likely to say the least. I really can’t explain it. It’s like trying to avoid the dam bursting by letting out a mean-spirited trickle of water.
Perhaps I should just let the damn thing burst.