When you live on an island, you inherit a more desperate love for land.
When you’re surrounded by the sea, you come into close contact with the idea of land being precious and finite. When you’re constantly surrounded by enough raging water to drown everyone and everything you have, you begin to associate land with the idea of the only kind of safety you can have on a rock, circling a star in space at an astounding speed.
Living on an island makes it hard to forget that the possibility of death is very real, always.
