the ocean's spray makes rainbows when whitecaps slap against your bow.
it happens every time and it happens off your stern too, when the sun's right.
but you can't look- not when your back there picking fish, because sometimes that spray will poke you in the eye. It stings too- even when you're squinting.
there was soap on the hand that reached up to poke you in the eye.
Tomorrow (which starts at 4.) will mark the eighth day straight of working. there has been little sleep and 6 of those days were full-day fish days. AM to AM. Friday should be a day off, I've written enough, but have not had a chance to type. My face is burnt, my hands torn, and my arms are white with salt.
All I have wanted is a cappuccino and a bowl of granola, yogurt, and berries.
in the meantime, here is a picture of my last summer in alaska