It’s been 31 days now, and most of us have lost hope in a rescue. A boat has yet to pass, and all of our fire-lighting and rock formations have become seemingly trivial. But we’ve begun to get more organized- we are each assigned to either hunting, fishing, shelter building, wood collecting, or exploring. Every so often a fight breaks out, but most of the animosity between one another has subsided given the general sense of acceptance of our fate. Now we can live the simple life, something that not one of us has known before.
The cool ocean breeze is constantly against our faces, and nothing is better than waking up to the sound of the waves. Our shelters protect us from occasional rain, and the abundance of fish and pigs keep us satisfied for most of the day. For former fishermen who rarely stepped off the boat, this almost seems like a vacation. But all of us keep in the back of our minds the looming, unavoidable breakdown that is bound to happen- one can only go so long without any purpose other than to survive. It’s just a matter of who cracks first.