A pull or a push, gentle wave that takes you in and carries you out almost at the same instance. Climb on top and ride her if you dare. Or just relax resting in the folds of her soft white froth wrapped as if in a blanket. Nothing seems to get you moving, yet somehow you do get from one place to another. Such is a nature of ocean waves to breathe you slowly towards the shore. Which shore it will be, that’s all depends on your own sense of direction. Choose wisely, you might not get another chance. One can become weary of the sail; sea-sickness gets the best even of the brave sailors at times. One minute up, then next one down. As the tidal wave created by the uncontrollable forces of others nature takes you with her. And you wonder why the weather is never right for a smooth ride, why as soon as you set up the sails, the wind changed direction and you are rowing backwards, often getting stuck aground waiting. Waiting for another fair wind. Sitting on a shore in solitude, watching sunset. Catch a message in the bottle. Read the flabby running letters. Don’t they say that the season for adventures is over. Don’t they tell you that it is time to stay ashore. Maybe it is time to listen.

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