Page 32 - Demo

ANOTHER FISH IN THE SEA
The other day someone asked me why I prefer to be a fish, and not a mermaid. Simple. Fish know how to lie and sneak in. Mermaids, on the other hand, are seen coming from afar. We fish have neither sky nor soil. Only horizon. Although sometimes we too come across that corner that ends in hatred, and fear. But it is the humidity of our scales and tears what protect us from superficial fires, from superficial wounds.
I imagine that freedom is difficult to understand for those who live with borders, surrounded by walls. Everything outside those barriers, runs away and breaks, or so it looks, but also everything that comes to the open sea and doesn’t leave keep us alive. The blows of the songs, the bouncing of the waves...
Listen to me when I say that, when the hurricane turns you inside out, you will melt your heads in the infinity of the sea. And you will realise that the things that fell on the road, everything you lost, everything you threw on the ground, was never meant to stay. Then you will dig deep, you will mine every second to rediscover what you didn’t do. Hear me out, celebrate your memories, and you will never forget what you are. For a fish, all there is, is nothing, but when you have nothing, and nothing is lost, life gets back to you: a sweet catch up, an opportunity to start.
My scales, just like my eyes, aren’t open, nor closed. I no longer carry locks, nor padlocks. Only the reflection of the sun, the moon, and the stormy winds. The slow weaves that our mind arouses in the emptiness of the long, quarantining hours. My breath doesn’t run away, nor does it burn, it absorbs. Although I stumble, and I doubt, I no longer fall. Us fish breathe it all, you know? Any downcast gaze, or echo of empty words. Do you really still think you know how to say anything? Swimming is nothing, yes, but that's all I do, I swim through fear and pain, through love and lies. I swim through my life, and I swim through yours. And everything I say is what I knew.
I don't breathe oxygen, I breathe freedom, like the immense minority. As long as the rain wets, as long as my heart still loves, there are always places to go where no one has ever been before.
Fish are brave.
And on that long journey, you will have time to go around the world, collecting the buried, collecting your dead, old — but happy — self. And yes, you apologise for the pain, and for the love, and for the good and bad, the tears and the drinks, and the steps and the stops. And you learn that living near a poet doesn’t make one... well, poetry. But it can make you a muse, your own muse. And it is true that Nina Simone can take you to Baltimore with her song, but it is also true that you can take yourself anywhere with a smile.