(Projector whirring. Film begins.) 1649. Safara is
eleven, crossing the Atlantic in white batiste gown,
hair intricately braided. She gazes straight ahead
as she walks through water-feet touching the sand,
head breaking the surface. Fish-some oily, black-
spotted, others gray, flat, ovoid-swim round her.
Hurricane season. The captain's made a mistake.
Thunderheads gather. Lightning strikes the seas.
The waves form deep shifting troughs. The ship
creaks as it begins to break apart. The captain re-
fuses to remove his heavy uniform, his war metals.
Like a runner struggling to reach the finish line,
Safara stumbles toward the water. She strips off
her clothes as she runs. She climbs over men
hunched together in brocaded suits, white ruffs at
their necks. They form a volcanic island; she
plunges into the spume of the sea. (Film ends.)
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