15

Far, far below me the jaws of the sea were opened wide, anticipating the moment of my consumption. I have long forsaken the acknowledgment of the ice embellishing my beard like jewels or the absence of any blood in my fingers and feet. My hands - now devoid of any flexibility - have become my only anchor. The wind howls and beats against my stiff body so powerfully that I can't help but wonder how the bruises will ever heal if I survive. I risk adjusting my head slightly so that I can peer downwards under my shoulder and glimpse what lies below, but I quickly avert my eyes and whip my face upwards towards the grey sky again to escape seeing the froth and foam leaping towards me like hounds against a tree trunk, waiting for some doomed animal to give in and surrender itself to its fate. But I will not give in. I can, and I will, survive.