âGreat Circle,â by Maggie Shipstead: An Excerpt
May 4, 2021
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Little America III, Ross Ice Shelf, Antarctica
March 4, 1950
I was born to be a wanderer. I was shaped to the earth like a seabird to a wave. Some birds fly until they die. I have made a promise to myself: My last descent wonât be the tumbling helpless kind but a sharp gannet plungeâa dive with intent, aimed at something deep in the sea.
Iâm about to depart. I will try to pull the circle up from below, bringing the end to meet the beginning. I wish the line were a smooth meridian, a perfect, taut hoop, but our course was distorted by necessity: the indifferent distribution of islands and airfields, the planeâs need for fuel.