nytimes.com - Sean Smyth has found six messages in bottles, or M.I.B.s, in the argot of serious beachcombers. Five were typical, tossed-from-a-cruise-ship messages along the lines of “Hi, my name is Dave. If you find this note, email me and tell me where it turned up.” But one green wine bottle contained a rambling love poem written by a man who apparently drank the bottle’s contents first. “That’s the only one I kept,” says Smyth, a helicopter pilot who shuttles miners and oil workers to remote locations between Vancouver, British Columbia, and Nome, Alaska.
No comments:
Post a Comment