They're not ice floes. They were just clouds. All that ice floating around the northeastern Pacific wouldn't make sense. I guess it's just constantly cloudy in Alaska.
I've been a stranger in a strange land for so long. I was comfortable living as a foreigner, as an outsider.
The sun is setting behind me; when I touch down it'll be night and not the hazy waning morning that greets me every winter I've returned home.
I'm traveling home but I don't want to. Except for my family, nothing awaits me there. I have no more close and loyal friends, I have no work, I have no life.
Haven't I been waiting to be done and home for nearly four years?
It's like I don't know how to be home.
Ryan
Flying Over the North Pacific