I was a shipwreck at the seabed in the South Pacific Ocean. One day, there was an iceberg floating passed me. It was glowing like the ice berg was the source of light itself, not from reflection. The light particles travelled through all the bending beams and rotten wooden decks. Before all the particles are gone, they got into my eyes.
I didn’t even know I had eyes.
I would like to see how beautiful the iceberg was from afar. I deconstructed myself just to get a good look at it. I floated up to the water surface. It turned out the iceberg was as ruined as myself. Climate change is real but perfection is not. It’s only fascinating because it was melting from the inside.
I lost my interest, at the same time I lost myself. I let some strangers took me. They were travellers. They accidentally took me because I fit their collection of souvenirs, but I rather be memorabilia. So, I left.
I was lost and brought to many places. I then found myself on a mountain. I made it to the summit just to be able to say that I had been there. It’s not even the highest summit of anything at all. Still, it was too cold. I decided to dissolve myself into the river.
I went from upstream straight into volcanic fields. Then I was chilling in a cute tiny village. I ran through urban sprawl. It was a frustrating city because there was no place to be, except endless networks of gutters.
So I heard there was a place, where neglected water ways turned into a river with the postmodern waterfront. I could be there.
Sorry. It was just a dream. I ended up becoming run-off. It’s not that I could choose to be in Lake Tekapo. No one gets to choose their own catchments.
I came a long way, finally, in estuaries. I saw two blue rectangles with a proportion of 1:infinity. There was no destination, but I suddenly felt my determination. I would get myself out there. I would be 200 nautical miles away from land. Where a distance mattered less than coordinates. I will be beyond the imaginary lines where no governance could mess with me. I would have the full sovereignty of my own.
There would be fishing boats, ships and yachts passing by, but they won’t be bothered. We would like to say hi, when we saw each other from afar. Sometimes we were near enough to exchange. Either stories or batteries, they were just fine. Sadly, no matter how much things we wanted to tell or energy capacities to be renewed, we all knew it in our neurons, we would leave. What’s the point sailing in the high seas, to be anchored in something.
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Glossary
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