For a painter, is all the paint and the paper, canvas or the walls enough? For a photographer, is all the film in the world enough?
For a writer, is all the paper in the world enough?
For an artist, is the world enough?
Why doesn’t a painter stop with one painting or a writer with one book or a filmmaker with one film or a photographer with one photo?

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Isn’t that only because they so much more things to say to the world or to just that one person it matters to? I could talk to the ocean all day and it still wouldn’t be enough. I started walking towards the silhouette created by the waves gushing against each other with the water reminding me once in a while that I wouldn’t have to run away from it for it was never going to harm. Not me. Not tonight. Soon we were both back in the boat and decided to play a little game. We decided to walk along the edge of the boat from one end to the other holding each other’s hands. First time, we fell. The second, we fell again. The third time, I almost gave up when I landed on some of the residue left behind by lifeless souls just managing not to get myself hurt with the broken pieces of their lives they left behind in the boat” - Excerpts From “The horizon shift.

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I was going to say ‘Lets stop doing this’ when I heard ‘Lets go again’. We decided to do it a little different this time. We decided to just go with it, not counting our steps and not relying on the balance that the hold gave us. We decided to go with the uncertainty

and the instability that the horizon shift had just taught me. The next thing we knew, we were both on the other side holding each other, not tightly but still it was good enough. We were both on the top, the boat’s front. That was all it took, that one hand that just supports you, not letting you go but letting you move. I looked up into the horizon again wondering if my thoughts were already there. Wondering if they’d ever come back. Maybe they won’t, maybe they will