I spend my time on Facebook searching for people who make up my past and grasping at them to feed my rumination about the past, sometimes rose-tinted, other times dark like the windows of a hearse limousine. The ballast of "friends" that keeps our ship upright on the cyberseas is what we have collected at many ports on our journey. Our journey is through time, not around the globe, and so even if we course due west for the rest of our lives, we will never circumnavigate the globe and call in our home port again.
This is probably not the journey most people envisage and there are always new shores sighted, but these are rarely the Indies or El Dorado. More often they are an island of savages where we will be able to refill our barrels with fresh water before sailing on. Sometimes we may not even anchor and add the shore to the never finished map before we sail on with a cursory wave.
Until we fall off the edge of the world.
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