She is underway when I first see her. From the helicopter, coming in low over the Aegean, I keep losing her against the water. The three-tiered wings throwing the sky back so completely — cloud, blue, light — that the superstructure reads as weather rather than structure. The teak decks are the only thing that holds. Warm, horizontal, real.

And the wake — the white water opening behind her — the only evidence that something has passed through.