The captain notices the sky. There is thick vapor here, but it is uneven, and gold falls through the gaps. She has seen this pattern before, but it seems no less significant today than the first time.
She didn't choose to be here, not for the most part. Air pushes her boat, direction controlled by whim of atmosphere.
On occasion, she might feel compelled to visit a strange new island she happens across, and she skillfully turns the mast to bring it closer. She sets anchor until she confirms that the sky executes the same patterns there as anywhere.
Could there be a place on this ocean where the sky is truly different? Maybe a place where the sun and clouds are still, where one incredible moment extends for as long as she stays? The thought feels too far away to be worth pursuing.
Where will she end up if she sails for a long, long time? She doesn't mind not knowing. Maybe this is as fine a place as any to study the endless patterns above.