Amanda Burrill

And I looked around and the sky was so incredibly blue, but the water was black.

I know from outer space, the ocean looks like it's blue, but it is black.

And there are these thousands of fathoms between me and the bottom of the Marianas Trench, but I can hardly see down to my own fins treading below me.

And every molecule that touches me is suddenly a shark.

And I think jumping to the conclusion of sharks is pretty normal, but I go straight biblical and I start thinking about the enormity of whales.

and how Pinocchio ends up just chilling inside of a whale's belly, and how Kramer in Seinfeld, he hit the golf ball and ends up in the whale's blowhole.

And then my thoughts go real dark.

I'm little.

I could probably fit in a whale's blowhole.

How long could I survive in there before it blows me out?

And how long could I survive here in this water?

And how long before my body would decompose?

The rescue swimmer needs a rescue.

Where is the ship?

What can I do?

So I tread a 360 and I scan the entire horizon and there is nothing and it forces me to be present.

The ocean is inconceivably vast and what I saw, it wasn't

little white crashing waves.

It was these football field sized rolling waves.

And the water was comfortable.