Certain Sailors

That rainy and stormy evening, I had entered the old Del Mare bar to ask for news and to make a phone call. I was looking for a sailor willing to set sail in a stormy sea. A hundred fixed gazes asking, " What does he want? He's not one of us. He's not a sailor." A hundred gazes drowned in the depths of a horizon, or inside a mug. That evening wasn't different, in there, it was like the others, a totally wasted evening. Eyes that told, without stopping to talk, of wrongdoing, of anger, and sad love stories. Lives too hard for them to talk about, and this was the reason for their solitary journey to sea. Many know that water can wash away well, not only the worst dirt, but also all sorrows. But few know that some sorrows can't even be washed away by the sea; it takes hurricanes to wash them away. And this was the story, among those inside the bar, of one who was sitting there, at the back, alone, lost in his solitary gaze. The bartender pointed him out to me, the one sitting there at the back, he said, that once upon a time, he accepted contracts to go to sea, alone in the storm. For him and for certain other sailors, sailing was like playing a game, fighting with their own anger and pain, at the cost of their lives. But after facing so many storms and so many typhoons, the monsoons also entered his heart and mind. At his bar, it is said, that one night, among the wild waves of the sea, he heard a voice telling him that he must no longer fight, he must find the courage to face himself and to speak. And from then on... Pablo began to meditate. ........................................