I am writing to you as we sail past the sparse hillsides of Albania. Travelling from Corfu to Croatia, we have just watched the most incredible lightning show…..
The wind howls down this coast from Venice in the North. For some this would set their teeth on edge, but instead she hugs us in her arms and whispers stories from the land. The coastline is but a shadow yet pine needles scent the air.
Spindrift lashes across the deck, glinting as it passes and falls. This is my home. Proud to be sea gypsies, gone with the wind we pass fleetingly through countries, knowing no borders. It has not always been this way, before resilience there was fear. Fear of the night, fear of the water, the wind and those around me. Time has smoothed my porous exterior, calcified me, these days I carry a shell.
At home nowhere and everywhere I am at peace in the world. Gone are trivial desires and many necessities. We wash in fresh pools, dry in the sun. Sleep beneath trees and stretch on grass verges.
This place, our place, is a place of needing nothing and everything. Where freedom and love are the only requirement.
