We were thrown through the sea last night. Nestled in our boat, the waves tossed us back and forth, seaweed winding it's way into our hair and mermaids whispering lullabies into our frightened ears. The cabin was stiflingly dark and with every shudder of the gale the sweet sound of a car alarm greeted our song. I lay in the noisy silence of the witching hour and, for once, did not imagine death. I waited as the seconds ticked by, grew into minutes, into hours. Numbers piling upon numbers, until the night was done and the dawn rose. Night. I could not hear my babes breathe. The morn came and a golden light lit the waves edge. As we drank bitter coffee, chewed bread and crunched on cereal the walled city loomed on the horizon. Land ahoy. We slid between the rocks and the islands of the ragged, unfinished coastline.