I love tropical clouds most of all. Tropical clouds are immense and dense, yet they never feel heavy. Their arrival signals rain that comes quickly and leaves just as fast. Rather than oppression, they bring anticipation—a brief, generous downpour that washes the heat away.
In the days after the pandemic of 2022, the global shipping industry slid into a downturn. Colossal vessels, once carriers of priceless necessities, became cheap tools of transport. For many companies, they turned into liabilities—maintenance, fuel, crews, port fees—an accumulation of costs that pushed ships toward abandonment. They were left where no fees were charged, and left there to stay. Engines built for constant motion are dependable; once forced into prolonged stillness, they grow fragile and drift toward obsolescence. Pounded by heavy seas and eaten away by salt, a hull must be repainted again and again. The giant before me has clearly been spared no such care. It has been left here, like a dead fish on the shore torn apart by crows—piece by piece, slowly losing its outline, then its skeleton, and finally its very claim to existence.