At two o’clock in the morning, the ship was ready to depart. We stopped walking at the end of the lonely dock of Izar-Carenas. This was where we had to part.

The ship was to take me for a long voyage, a voyage keeping the fools from the sane. There was no captain on board, and each passenger had to decide his own destination. I did not have a destination in mind. Besides the gloves that you gave me last winter, in my backpack, I had Beckett’s How It Is, a pen and a toothbrush.

The sea water splashed on the dock and left a few drops on your shoes. Your hands were cold. Under the bleak moonlight, I saw myself in your eyes, a soul too bare, a shadow too light. I kneed down to wipe off the water on your shoes. I looked up at your face. It was as if you were part of the light.

I saw your back parting away. Soon the clouds cast all over, rain started pouring.