MARE NOSTRUM

A Lyrical Vignette

The sea had always known his name.

As far back as he could remember, waves had died on shadow sands, murmuring it with foamy voices. They called out to him, first roaring as they broke and then sighing, like mourners on the shore, as if almost accepting he would never belong to them.

Tired, the tide would eventually withdraw its lunar fingers and let him sleep. Until next time.

But this was different. It wasn't the sea calling his name. It was the woman everyone said couldn't be there, with a voice he felt had always lived deep inside him: an echo of something ancient, more powerful than reality. And he could not resist that voice – that tide, that sea. Nor did he want to.

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