We were sailing north, from Grenada to Antigua who had just opened to sailboats, when we stopped at Saint Lucia for the night. The world was locked down, Saint Lucia was shut but allowed us to rest. The anchorage was deserted. No sound but the hush of the bay. Above us, the Pitons rose like a monoliths. Unmoved, immense, older than belief. We could not go ashore. We lay still beneath it, and let it watch us. After a sleep we continued on our way.
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