A sunken ship is an amazing thing. It is solid death. A catastrophe. And yet the ocean claims the cadaver as its own.
Ships are made of wood and metal. Before long the algae flourishes. The coral blooms. The fish investigate. Animals return these products to nature.
I knew all of these facts before our ship went down. That was a terrible time. The crushing, freezing water. But I did not lose consciousness. Instead I ended up in a sort of malaise. A foggy world where nothing made sense.
After remerging I did not mind that my hands were skeletal, and moved without muscles or sinew. In three days I was on my feet. It took me a few weeks to leave the ship. The first view of the fish around the boat was so beautiful. Then I took my first stumbling steps across the ocean floor.
Time is a meaningless concept now. I walk across the water. A whale passes overhead.
A few others join. We walk, looking for the land.
We will return.
