Going into the CBD of Auckland by ferry, one of the first linguistic signs you notice is Mercure, yes of the hotel by that name. I've never stayed at any Mercure hotels and it means little to me as it is. But on a day like this, when a mountain of things are on your mind and you don't know what to tackle first, the letters look into your petty self with an illuminating honesty.
Mer, cure(s). This sea, gently supporting you on the boat, cures. The wind and the waves cure. Cure you of whatever strangeness you carry inside.
Then I step off the boat afresh from the salty mist.
