— You stand on the beach and taste the salty smell of the wind that comes from the ocean, and inside you feel the warmth of never ending freedom, and on your lips the bitter, tear-soaked kiss of your lover.
— I have never been to the ocean.
— That can't be true! You have never ever been to the ocean?
— Never — ever!
Both of us are knocking on heavens door, drinking tequila — we are biting-the-dust experts — and you have never — ever been to the ocean! -
— Never — ever!
— Don't you know how it is when you arrive in heaven? In heaven that's all they talk about — the ocean — and how wonderful it is. They talk about the sunsets they have seen. They talk about how the sun turned blood-red before it set. And they talk about how they felt
when the sun was loosing its power, — and the cold that was coming from the ocean, while the rest of the fire was still glowing. And you -
You can't talk about it with them, since you have never been there! You will be a fucking outsider up there! And there is nothing we can do about it?

The sea's onIy gifts are harsh bIows and, occasionaIIy, the chance to feeI strong. Now, I don't know much about the sea, but l do know that that's the way it is here. And l also know how important it is in Iife not necessariIy to be strong, but to feeI strong,
to measure yourseIf at Ieast once, to find yourseIf at Ieast once in the most ancient of human conditions, facing the bIind, deaf stone aIone with nothing to heIp you but your hands and your own head.

Out to sea.
Out to sea.
And in the weightlessness of the deep, where dreams are fulfilled,
Two wills come together to fulfill a wish.
Your gaze and my gaze like an echo repeating wordlessly,
Farther out,
farther out,
Beyond the other side of everything, through blood and bones.
But I always wake up and I always want to be dead,
Your hair forever caressing my lips.