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January 10, 2012
I was just reading about an early 19th century rowboat transporting a ship's passengers to a luminescent, Danish shore. In the distance, the full moon was about to be concealed by thick clouds of spindly lightning. The chapter graciously ended, and my eyes immediately averted to one of my favorite coffee mugs, sitting on the afghan beside me. The crude painting depicted another rowboat leaving a beach that was being tended by barefoot, dark-skinned women holding containers of fish over their heads. There was no telling where the boat was going, and everything appeared peaceful enough on the surface.