The mast, there are many tricks, his shirt was patched so many times, other men are on the team, too, I am drinking, I have the resolution, go to bed and be fresh in the morning, the boy left his room for the street, it was early and the islands were scary, he felt different, no great occurrences occurred, no women, no wife, no fish, no contests of strength, only the boy sitting in his car, as a fisherman, who sets sail and apologizes to his friends who are also sailing the ocean, who love the sea and are exact and don’t panic, when a bullet hits their unintelligent eyes, or when they run out of sardines, they are delicate and are traveling to the north-west at noon, from Havana and cannot wait for the sunrise, they shut their eyes and dream of flying fish, with their pectoral fins and how they fly high above the water as they jump into the air, and see eagles flying beyond the mountain, as the breeze hits them, the fishermen are brothers and they are happy at the height of the sky, the moon, and the stars, they no longer feel the need to take up weapons, or use wood as a bow,
May 13th 2018