The Lull
"It’s a dead calm, isn’t it?" "It is, sir. But there’s something out of the common coming, for sure."—Joseph Conrad, Typhoon Nothing happens. A dull sea, the color of slate, mirrors the gray skies billowing above. The sun flickers through the mist, its pale disc begging for an appearance, like an old actor whose glory has passed. The wind has slackened. Any sense of direction and purpose has given way to aimless drift. Time seems to have come to a halt. Ennui builds—and yet, the stillness is ...