1. The waves
In the middle of the night, the moon bigger and brighter than usual, its black hair stood still in the vastness of space, barely visible, it stretched its smooth pearl neck and directed its big dark brown eyes towards the color-orgasmic surface of the earth. A small boat in the port of St Cristobal started moving up and down, slowly. The waves of the sea in the distant open waters, thousands and thousands of kilometers away, rose calmly at first, forming step-by-step, an ever-growing mountain. As the mount became bigger, the waves became more and more menacing, picking-up speed, becoming less and less uniform, deformed, savage, uncontrollable. And then, out of the blue, they rested for a moment, as if suspended in the air, the law of gravity having taken a brief holiday from earth, as if they rested to think, to contemplate, as if they had to spend a moment to consider things. Silence covered all. Everything paused and waited. The moon, unapproachable, shining silver-white, completely lonely, the sole planet in an ocean of sparkling stars, held its breath and looked at the spectacle developing in front of its eyes, its heart beating at its highest rhythm in months, years maybe, sucked-in by a magnetic force caressing gently its cheeks like a soft draft of air, enticing them to get closer.
The waves stormed down with the strength of a thousand hurricanes, with the crackling noise of a hundred thunders, moving in light-speed, ready to devour everything, to demolish and to destroy, to take over and annihilate. They came closer and closer to St Cristobal, giant skinny hands with their fingers stretched as far as possible, their veins in full alert, popping out, strong, ugly, the small boat now rocking gently. The moon looked almost scared, forcing itself to watch but not really wanting to look, still pushing itself forward without knowing why. The waves re-formed a huge mountainside and once again came-down crashing with an overwhelming strength, an even bigger appetite to consume everything in their passage. The small boat had now started to really move, up and down, left and right in a disharmonious way. An absolutely enormous mountain-top of waves had since been formed. It stood ready to attack when the moon realized that it was itself, the cause of it all. It found itself embarrassed, surprised and uncomfortable that it had created all this. Not sure what it was doing or why, it forced itself to stop, it took immediately several steps to calm down the strength of the waves, but it did nothing to actually stop them. The waves sped-down, and began their descent, this time in a smoother, more regular but still equally destructive power. The boat definitely felt that.
The first batch of waves crashed loudly in a rock formation outside the port, the moon shocked at their intensity, went on full alert. This time, it absolutely had to stop the waves. It was necessary, it was essential and it was, of course, too late. The boat had no time to react to what was happening around it, it laid there, unaware of what nature had in store for it, when it suddenly felt something. It was like a warning, a wake-up call, a message, it was as if someone had just pinched it. It instantly felt attracted to the moon and looked intensely at its direction, drawn to it, as if a mega-magnet had been pointed at it. The moon did the same, overwhelmed by a shower of contradictory feelings- uncertainty, confidence, desire to risk it, lack of commitment, still not comprehending why. It could not do anything, but this time it was different, it felt like it no longer needed to. This was the time for the boat to act, it was the time for the moon to get onboard and get carried away, it was the time to give up its strength, it was the time to lose control and it was the time to go against everything, even nature.
The waves now entered the port, strong, powerful, forceful, ungrateful and unforgiving. Neither the moon nor the boat understood all that much, too committed to each other, too absorbed by each other’s presence to understand anything happening around them. Everything shook and everything moved and everything was displaced and everything was turned upside-down and still, those two remained indifferent, unaware, undeterred and oblivious. The waves looked back at them in disappointment and anger, a look of lust for revenge in their eyes. They were not going to let them get away with it so easily. No one had resisted them before and as sure as hell, no one was going to start doing so now. The moon and the boat, the boat and the moon, could not have cared less. They were connected, attached, committed and glued to each other.