The Weight of Black Gold

Consider the great ships, the Carnival and the swift birds of JetBlue. They trace lines across the water, carrying dreams and fleeting moments. But each voyage, each arc of flight, demands a tribute. Diesel and kerosene, drawn from the earth’s deep slumber, fuel their passage. A rising tide of cost will inevitably touch the traveler, a slight tightening of the purse strings, a shortened horizon. They will attempt to mask it, to offer a smile with the bill, but the weight will be felt. The sea does not offer its bounty freely.







