The ship bumped against the small wooden pier.
L
NITED rotten to the many storms that had hit.
there was a loud crunch. The Boy ignored him and continued with the wet rope in his hands along the pier, when he had secured very carefully wiped his hands on his pants, then took off his cap and hair, blue as the sea behind him, shaken by the breeze covered his sight.
wiped his brow moist with sweat, put on his hat and turned around.
There was none.
sighed.
Then he let out a whistle, prolonged, rolling thin-lipped. Once, twice, thrice. Yet he turned around, the silence broken only by the lapping of the waves.
The hub came on board. He disappeared below deck. Reappeared.
yet issued its long whistle. And yet the pier was deserted.
The hub got busy with the ropes, sails, anchors. Disappeared and reappeared. Now on the yards, now in the galley. Wherever excerpts of blue that floated in the warm wind that day alone. From time to time the whistle was heard muffled by fatigue. Then silence again.
When everything was as it should be the hub sat on the back of the figurehead, he took the knife and opened it. The blade, very thin, reflected for a moment his eyes, then sank into the wood of the ship.
It was a moment. It seemed that pierce the sky. That the sea dries up, sucked in by that cut infinitesimal. That everything in that wood was absorbed, swallowed ..
was only an instant.
The next instant already told another story ..
L
NITED rotten to the many storms that had hit. there was a loud crunch. The Boy ignored him and continued with the wet rope in his hands along the pier, when he had secured very carefully wiped his hands on his pants, then took off his cap and hair, blue as the sea behind him, shaken by the breeze covered his sight.
wiped his brow moist with sweat, put on his hat and turned around.
There was none.
sighed.
Then he let out a whistle, prolonged, rolling thin-lipped. Once, twice, thrice. Yet he turned around, the silence broken only by the lapping of the waves.
The hub came on board. He disappeared below deck. Reappeared.
yet issued its long whistle. And yet the pier was deserted.
The hub got busy with the ropes, sails, anchors. Disappeared and reappeared. Now on the yards, now in the galley. Wherever excerpts of blue that floated in the warm wind that day alone. From time to time the whistle was heard muffled by fatigue. Then silence again.
When everything was as it should be the hub sat on the back of the figurehead, he took the knife and opened it. The blade, very thin, reflected for a moment his eyes, then sank into the wood of the ship.
It was a moment. It seemed that pierce the sky. That the sea dries up, sucked in by that cut infinitesimal. That everything in that wood was absorbed, swallowed ..
was only an instant.
The next instant already told another story ..
