Setting Sail for The Imaginary Islands

We've set sail for an unknown destination. Our charts are out of date, our compass swings wildly from point to point, resting for a few moments on a course before spinning round again. The sun rises and sets reliably enough, but there's stormclouds and fog, and nightfall, and submerged reefs off the coast. Some say we're headed for Paradise, the land of milk and honey, where naked native girls will feed us and bed us and we'll never grow old. Others claim we're headed for a wild and godless place, where sea-monsters will wreck our fine ship and drag us down to the cold dark belly of the sea, where we'll shipwreck on the reefs and if we survive that we'll make landfall on a barren rock peopled with savages who'll boil us alive and make soup with our bones. Still others claim we'll sail off the very edge of the world and fall off into an endless abyss. Myself, I've no idea.


Now mind the helm, and make for the horizon!




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