“But I did feel violated. My little flat felt ruined–soiled and unsafe. Even describing it to the police had felt like an ordeal…” 

Lo reflects on the experience of returning to the flat after her burglary, and the way it makes the space feel like it no longer belongs to her–as if she is no longer safe inside it. This relates to her similar feelings in other supposedly safe spaces later on in the novel.

“Between the sulfur-yellow pools of streetlight, they were gray and shadowed, and a cold wind blew discarded papers against my legs, leaves and rubbish gusting in the gutters. I should have felt afraid–a thirty-two year old woman, clearly wearing pajamas, wandering the streets in the small hours. But I felt safer out here than I did in my small flat. Out here, someone would hear you cry.”

After insomnia keeps Lo from sleeping, she wanders the streets of London and reflects on the feeling of being safe outdoors; this trauma begins her fear of enclosed spaces.  

“I love ports. I love the smell of tar and sea air, and the scream of the gulls […] Airports say work and security checks and delays. Ports say…I don’t know. Something completely different. Escape, maybe.” 

As Lo arrives at the port preparing to take off on her cruise, she reflects on the pleasure of being on the sea. Her idea of the port as escape, however, is deeply ironic, given her later experiences aboard the Aurora.