length: nine miles, visual· in: one held look, less than a breath· who measures: the eye, the horizon, and the lamp on its rotation
the only named distance in the labyrinth that is crossed without moving. at one end the eye of a person standing at the harbour rail; at the other, the lighthouse on the spit of land that bends out into the sea like a finger that has been pointing at one thing for a long time. the air between them is the medium, the horizon the rule.
what is crossed: nine miles of sea, mostly grey. you can tell when the glance has landed by the small re-focus the eye does at the very end. on a clear evening you can also see the lamp turn — it takes nine seconds for one full rotation — and time the glance to that. people measure their feelings, sometimes, by which turn they happened to be looking on.
the eye measures it by sharpness; the sea, by the colour it has chosen for the afternoon; and the lamp itself, which has never been told it is a distance but is the most honest yardstick the harbour has.