Oh my old friend the sea, everything has gone.
The bits & pieces and odd & ends that delighted my boyish eyes and which I held in my small hands have been gathered together, taken away and sold. All is gone.
It was just the flotsam and jetsam of the lives of my parents and grandparents but my brother's ghost hid among those things and I can hardly bear the loss.
I find myself caring less and less for possessions. I have walked around in a daze, making a note of what I would carry me away with me when I run to the sea for the last time. It would make a sorry little pile but then I dream about a simple life.
I have lost the pleasure that I once had in the things that surround me. Why hang on to them when they could be lost in a careless moment and why preserve them just so they have to be divided and bring more hurt or, worse still, so that they can be secretly gathered and divided, some "for safe keeping" and the rest for sale.
I hate this bitter taste but I cannot bear this happily.
I don't have the words anymore. Forgive me, my old friend the sea.
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