The ships drop anchor in the bay and are a constant sight along the shore. Coming and going from afar, maneuvering through the islands and out to the open Pacific ocean. Night and day. Rain or shine. During storms, the ships take shelter in the nearby landmasses that hug the bay. Then they're off to deliver their cargo and bring some more.
My imagination takes over, and I wonder about the sailors onboard. They might be far from home in this mysterious land around the ring of fire. What do they see when they look across the ocean at that nascent metropolis surrounded by wilderness and a range of snowy peaks?
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