Wore silver globe earrings to the celebration; allowed myself to walk over sponge marbles and wool carpets before stepping into the wooden floor again. Everything should have the scent of the sea, I conceive, however there is humus too, and dry leaves upon ancient books, and moss between the cracks. And I twirl and I twirl, only to inhale the same smells, and I ponder. Having deciphered the veins that scar the oceans, must I climb the mast to catch sight of the mountains beyond the spilled foam? Oh captain, my captain.