it was like someone was holding down the E key in my head. bipbipbipbipbipbipbipbipbip. interference.

there was once a sea captain who fell in love with the wooden woman carved on the prow of his own ship. he never spoke of it, but every day grew more pale - keel-hauled by his own passions. after being caught three months in the rip of this secret love, he was starting to look like a drowned man. he became superstitious. he would only face furrard, he would never face aft. he wanted to look where she looked: out, out. the straits in his heart and mind narrowed. his navigation suffered as he lost himself in the blind map of his own emotions. still his salty galatea held her pose, carved and impassive, a totem-girl.