Saturday, 2 October 2010


This island is like an old inn at the last crossroads or the port where all lost sailors stop. Everyone here is going somewhere. They're just waiting for the right wind to blow.

She’s going to quit her job.

He’s going to move for good.

All the guests are going home.

At the bar everybody talks of destinations, future and past, and wait for that wind to change. (-Reveries)

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