The night looked defaced without its stars. The wind, lost and scared, was blowing over and over, gashing the ocean of deep scars. The world changed so precipitously. From this time forward, it was the painful theater of an animal struggled all out. All the universe, fascinated by the show, deceived our compass, enjoyed of our scares which were filling up our body inevitably. We were looking on a puddle, like wood chips floating with which a child was verifying the resistance, throwing pebbles always heavier. The ships resisted to the onslaughts but the tempestuous rage was starting to devour the sails. We weren’t humans, we were sprigs at a nod of a bored child-god.
Like the way out of a dream, Calypso emerged from the waters. The night, still denuded of stars, was begining to blush with an impossible pink, putting on all its finery with a coat of an incredible palette. Were there words to describe those colors ? We were understanding the cursed game ended. We should back home, we would back home ! Calypso was floating and arising in her furrow the hope of the return to the earth. This earth, some puddles that we used to forget easily, became today our heaven, our treasure.
We forget so quickly the value of thing, blind, as if things would be there for eternity.
Further, a child leaved the puddles and the pebbles then joined his mother. The waiting was so long, but he was calm down now. He was so angry about her, but he realized she might to be right, he could wait the next Christmas to get his new game.
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