"It looks so familiar," Ina said. "But it feels so different."
Clumps of coiled weeds drifted in our wake, liberated from the mainland of Equatoria by storms or tides, huge eight-fingered leaves limp on the surface of the water. The Arch was behind us now, no longer a door out but a door back in, a different sort of door altogether.
Ina said, "It's as if one history has ended and another has begun."
En disagreed. "No," he said solemnly, leaning into the wind as if he could will the future forward. "History doesn't start until we land."