|m y s h i p p y w i p|
For a year, between the ages of twelve and thirteen, I built, from scratch, a small model sloop, of the nineteenth-century sort. I really had nothing better to do with some balsa, some spruce, cardboard, matchbooks, paper, thread, pinheads, scrap plastic, wire, and hair. Or my time. I called her Swiftsure [*], because I thought (and think) that that's what a ship ought to be named.
I think you'll agree that she's remarkable.
To be sure, some of the scaling is primitive, some of the details are only suggestions, and a few things (I notice, after fifteen years) just don't make sense. She is not a likeness of any known vessel. Why, then, since I obviously didn't understand modelling, did I bother?
No. You don't get it. What a lovely thing she is! A dream ship. I'm pleased to show you one of the first fully-realised efforts of my campaign against reality, juvenilia of a perfect kind. Who would have known it would be in the medium of 'sloop' rather than 'fugue'?
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