The moon paints a streak of silver on the black sea. Just at the edge of it, where the sky meets the water, a series of lights mark out the shape of another ship. The wind is truly cold as it whips at my clothes and the pages of my notepad. The deck I’m sitting at is brightly lit but it is the blackness out there, perforated only by a big glowing disc, that catches my attention. The low humming drone of the ship’s engine and the rhythmic splashing of the waves fills my ears only to be pierced now and then by the shrieks of revelers taking a breath of air. To stave off the chill I take a quick run along the railing to the other side of the boat. Here there is no moon to light up the scene, yet darkness is not complete outside our bastion of light. The sky has a faint blue tone to it and there are hints of yellow and orange near the horizon, one single star shining brightly close to where the blue fades to black. With no one else around, not even stray party goers, I find myself looking out at this mostly black picture and finding a sort of beauty in my lonesomeness.