And they got on the ship not knowing if they will come back alive. But by the time they were to come back, alive and well, they would have realized that they were never truly alive until the ship had sailed, until they had left everything they had in a big heap and lit it on fire.

And by the time they got back they would have realized they needed none of the things from before, that they had always been carrying them as anchors to their souls, and precisely those things they didn't have anymore is what grounded them in their adventures. It was never about the treasures they were going to dig up, nor about the ****** and the bartenders they so often visited in ports; it was never about some thing.

It was about them and only them, about the gold of their hearts, the sapphires of their eyes, and the stories they told to each other.

Not one reality has seen half the excitement and livelihood of one of their stories.

This way, they became immortal.