as the sun dipped low over the horizon, i found myself musing over the tales of old, thinking how the sea's salt has danced with eras. long ago, an era where they banned the very essence of our life at sea – salt. it was a time before the announcements of the great voyages, a period needing to withdraw from the folly of past decisions. but, as the tides turn, we've seen the sense of preexportation rituals rekindle from the beginning, allowing our spirits to be as free as the gulls above. despite the bans of yore, the sea's brine clings to our sails, whispers of ancient freedoms in every spray.