A cruise begins.
It’s imperceptible, the moment the ship begins to glide. Passengers, unpacking in their staterooms or sitting idly aboard the long stationary vessel, look up to see the landscape sliding past, silently imparting a delicious secret. We’re moving.
Crowds gather on the upper decks, eager to take in the panoramic views. Fort Lauderdale looks small, strangely trivial, from the perspective of the massive towering ship. The atmosphere is festive, almost jubilant, but the people are quiet, attentive, pressed against the rails, gazing out, feeling the rush of the ship, pondering the landscape now shrinking fast. Some turn their faces to the ocean, to the expanse of unbounded water that for the moment represents the future.