Just looking at the beach on a sandpit under the icy fog, I observe in the horizon the ships.Some coming, others going, and their odours leaving us in a state of transiency. A boat in the shape of a banana split carries fruits and vegetables, but also some fish. And that makes us yearn for sweet perfumes, a reward for their trips.

The acerbic assent embedded on us makes us drowned in a act of faith. And we feel stupefied and we prostrate by the enormity of their sizes.

"Could a moment that is called "now" be too far?" I reflect to myself while watching the sky turn into a rosy heart, as the sun taints it in small lines.

I look at those ships, and turn my face to the sun once again. At that moment when the sun touches the horizon and the ships disappear into the ocean I cannot stop but sing that Barry Manilow's ballad, like an acid and sweet, peachy and grapy taste in my mouth, and a smile that looks like a fruit basket, but not as cheesy or ham, humming it to myself,"Like those ships that pass in the night." And all of a sudden I can feel the mystery of what a romantic encounter can give to us all at once!

Cruises pass as if they were crossing through me. But I mean literally, they actually navigate right through me, as I fall to their spell and I feel like a ghost of a pirate. Music playing loud, people screaming, waving, greeting, having fun inside. The fumes remind me that I once wished to be an engineer to find a way to use only clean resources. A long, loud and sad whistle announces the depart of another one, leaving behind a steam swirling like thousands of snakes with a trembling trail in the air, and in a mushroom-made type of a white cloud just above them.

It looks like a Crusade but it's just another Cruise with passengers coming and going, and the vicious scents it expels are like an old dish, that no matter how much indigest and poisonous it may be, we still crave for another bite. And that is what, years after years, it years and earns the city that smells like fish.

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