Down at the
bottom, there is a reflection, there is a place where he wants to be. To reach
it he must drink it all. Quickly. Drink up.
It is not the sea, it is clearer, but
it is as big and as comforting. He loves it. The sea that he is holding tight. Clear
and beautiful.
He cannot stop looking down the
glass, the beautiful sea he owns, he can see its waves, its dancing creatures,
its possibilities. He smiles.
He is falling in love and falling
sleep. He is smiling, the heaviness of his body giving in. The soft caress of
life over him, loving him.
A soft wave is engulfing him, a numb
peace taking over. He could hear distant noises and happiness all over. He is splendidly drowning.
Everything was slowly coming back,
sweet torpor fading away, the poignant undertow emerging. He must look for it:
the sea in a glass of gin.
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