It is low, and resonant, the kind of deep sound that shakes you at the center of your being. In some far off memory, ethereal amid the general thoughts in my mind, it conjured up of visions of דג גדול and Ahab’s quarry. Thus, the aged, rusted hull heaved in defiance of an angry ocean. I dragged my wet sleeve across my eyes to get the brine out. The deck was a swamp, all foam and saltwater. The angry tide crashed in to Mr. Bosun, violently sweeping him off his feet and over the drowning starboard handrail. The remainder of the crew scrambled to get to him, tossed the bright orange life ring in to the wash… the seconds inevitably passed, conglomerating in to evil minutes, and still the bright orange ring bobbed amid the breakers. The only thing I could possibly do is hang on for dear life and sanity in the EYE OF THE STORM
DANANANANANANANANA
DANANANANA
NAAAAAAAAA-NAAAAAAAA-NA
1010101010101101000100101001100
01010
10101010100101010010101011111111100100100011111111111111111111111111111111111110
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