As a ship finds home in the harbor, I find refuge in the sea. The cerulean waters, forever harmonious with the sun breaking across the horizon, is the most perfect masterpiece any god could have created. The raging waves crashing, returning to tears as they reach the stony shore fills me with an unexplainable solace. A solace filled with sadness, yes, but peace nonetheless.
The north wind softly caresses my body and cleanses my soul as it takes me on that distant dream of myself and my father exploring the seven seas - a silent, distant memory I remember with piercing clarity. The seagulls squawking, trifling with the ships save me before a broken promise engulfs me completely; the out-of-tuned band reminding me of my existence... and my father's inexistence.
It's been two years since the sea took the S. Christina, and my father.
You may be wondering why, despite the crime it has committed, I have in me such ardent admiration for the sea. Too tell you the truth, I'm not sure myself. Perhaps it's because I love my father too much. How could I hate the one thing my father loved? Jealous, I may be, but furious I am most definitely not.
I still come here often, bringing my father's - no, our model ship. I sit here by the shore, staring past the horizon, smelling the salty sea water. The north wind blows and I welcome it wholeheartedly, knowing that somehow, it's my father wiping away the tears that escape my eyes.
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