“And in me too the wave rises. It swells; it arches its back. I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back.” The Waves, Virginia Woolf
You can keep yourself stranded in the middle of the sea. You may become an island. A floating memory or a heavy iceberg. You can even build up your own ark, like Noah. Should you have the strength and the tools you can put up a rock castle or dream of its fortitude instead. Will it be enough? Won’t you miss the breaking sound of the waves on the sand? And the fearful anticipation of them crashing onto you?
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