When the ocean liner Andrea Doria sank south of Cape Cod, she took fifty-one with her. Since then she’s taken twelve more, five in the last two summers alone.
Off the coast of Belize, on an island no bigger than your backyard, the hermit of french louis caye watches the world through his radio.
Before it was an issue, it was an island. For fifty years, with cannons, Hellfire missiles, and napalm, the U. S. Navy has bombed the daylights out of Vieques, P. R., whose best-kept secret remains a bay that glows in the dark.
One man. One modest raft. One big freakin’ ocean. So bring on the waves, the sharks, the tankers - they’re nothing compared with the mind-bending solitude.