Chopin

"Let me tell you a story," she says. Her words came out but her lips didn't move. She never seemed to care what others thought. The all-loving woman. To others of course. She lived a life of appearances, but she came alive behind closed doors.

Many writers write about the sea. The enveloping waves that will wash over and take you without a trace. How inviting they are, those cold dark waves. It is their inviting appearances that draw one out, far out, until a second decision or a doubt will not matter. That feeling came too late. All that is left to do is to inhale and succumb to the wishes of the waves. Sinking far down, you hear the sirens song, gently calling you closer to the floor of the sea. You give yourself over to temptation and longing and you fall and float into this new world. Like all good things, this to is short, for your life blood and human capabilities cannot survive in this new world. Your body is finally one with the ocean, although you yourself are lost in some white abyss.