It is almost silly, a sailboat on dry land. And it should never be more than temporary. Perched on crutches and concrete blocks, without a mast, without sails, without a heading, it seems vulnerable.
We now fear gales we used to laugh at out on the water. And this sailboat that dove through crashing waves is now sheltered under tarps like a fragile little thing fearing to get wet.
A sailboat on dry land becomes tiny. Without the horizon and the sea air, without the vast space and addictive freedom they bring, one feels cramped. You wouldn't sleep a single night in it!