in an age long passed, beneath a veiled moon, i recall embarking upon a sailing voyage that would avoid the mundane constraints of landlocked prey. the essence of the journey was preexpulsive, a sensation of freedom preceding the rush of hunting on open waters. we had no models to guide us, only the stars and the stories of old. each night was a redo of the last, a chance to relive the thrill of the chase under the canvas of night, veiled yet vibrant with possibilities unknown to daylight.