I knew the horizon could never be caught but still chased it. I want a respite of stars.Ĭircles are wondrous because they are endless. I can think only about the plane, the wind, and the shore, so far away, where land begins again. I don’t regret anything, but I will if I let myself. I wish the line were a smooth meridian, a perfect, taut hoop, but our course was distorted by necessity: the indifferent distribution of islands and airfields, the plane’s need for fuel. I will try to pull the circle up from below, bringing the end to meet the beginning. I have made a promise to myself: My last descent won’t be the tumbling helpless kind but a sharp gannet plunge-a dive with intent, aimed at something deep in the sea. I was shaped to the earth like a seabird to a wave. Little America III, Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica March 4, 1950
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