The World Was Our Port of Call
Deja Blue • The Sea Chapter One of the Privileged Homeless No fixed address for years at a time. Every address in the world, briefly. That’s not homelessness — that’s a technicality with a horizon. See Video See on YouTube The Confession What the Form Couldn’t Hold Every immigration form has the same small box: Home address. For years, mine was a cabin number that changed with the contract and a horizon that changed with the watch. I learned this the hard way, filling in forms in ports where the officer would look up, look at me, look back down, and finally write something diplomatic. The truth wouldn’t fit in the box. The truth was: I live at sea. The sea does not do postcodes. I call it being one of the privileged homeless. No mortgage, no lawn, no accumulating garage. What I had instead was motion — eight times around the planet’s waistline,...