This is a story about the loneliest whale in the world.
She isn’t like any
other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friend. She
doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She
doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come... in groups of two to
six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any
other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between
12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precicely the problem. No other
whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains
unanswered. And, with every lonely song, she became sadder and sadder, her notes
going deeper into despair as the years go by.
Just imagine, a
massive creature, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any being
it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast streches of empty, open
ocean...
