The sea remains the last place to which you can run away.
Full fathom five thy father lies /
Of his bones are coral made /
Those are pearls that were his eyes /
Nothing of him that doth fade /
But doth suffer a sea-change /
Into something rich and strange.
Standing looking out to sea can be like standing at an altar. You wait in silence for some kind of benediction. If prayer could have a physical destination, this would be it.
I love the sea but the sea does not love me.