We sailed down the East River from Long Island Sound, through the swirling current of Hell Gate, under the span of the Brooklyn Bridge, and around the southern tip of Manhattan. The city rose around us in all its grandeur - steel, glass, chaos. That night, we anchored beneath the Statue of Liberty. The sky glowed with artificial light, and the city pulsed behind her. We were the only boat in the anchorage. Alone in the quiet, with eight million people in the background, it felt like we had found a pause in the middle of everything - a small piece of stillness in a place that never stops moving.
