2) Sanbrekka, day 38.

Day 38,

Land.

I'm finally on the ground.

After a month spent at sea, my feet touched the ground.

My first steps in an unknown land.

I'm a pioneer.

The lighthouse led me to this place.

Now its light has become feeble like the light of a candle in the distance.

I landed in a sort of large fjord where a small port was built.

There are also what appear to be the remains of sunken ships in front of the entrance to the creek.

The marina is in bad shape, especially the wooden parts which have rotted or been dragged away by the waves. From the state of abandonment and neglect, I concluded that I am the first to arrive here in a long time. However, it is still suitable to accommodate Lys, seeing that it is mainly derived from the bare rock of the cliffs of this strange place.

At least it's a sheltered place far from the fury of the waves.

My safe harbour.

The opportunity to return to be myself.

Did you bring me up here with your light?

The air of this place is vaguely spooky, even if softened by the snow.

The snow that covers everything, the snow that brings silence.

In times past, this had been a small fishing village; I can tell this by the numerous poles scattered here and there where the fish were dried and stored.

Now it is only a simulacrum of fragments of memories and silent spirits.

Abandoned and forgotten.

Like me and Timo.

Like everything that has stopped flowing together with everything else.

Panta Rhei.

Mismar and Dilgan followed me, as always, and now they play in the waters of the marina. Sometimes they go away for a few hours, but in the end, they always come back here, puffing and whistling to get my attention. And my fish.

Apparently, I’ve found a new family.

It is an ancient and forgotten emotion. It is a development that makes me confused and anxious.

I am too fragmented. I do not think I can provide for a family, even if it is so atypical.

Too many new changes in such a short time.

Too many strange sensations suddenly reappeared.

Too many unknowns in a future that should not belong to me.

How will I keep going? I feel so overwhelmed.

I should be on a scow offshore, waiting for the call of the sea to assail me and drag me into the depths of the abyss.

I should not be here.

I should not be anymore.

My head is a deafening hurricane.

But I have to stay lucid.

I have to be able to save the girl.

In the village, many of the houses have collapsed or the roofs have caved in, probably because of the snow, the changing seasons, and the years that have passed. However, the most solid are still intact and perfectly maintained.

They are like shrines of lost times.

Forgotten archives of joy, of pain, of new loves, of farewells, of dances, of songs, of interweaving lives.

Whenever I enter one of these houses, I feel like an archaeologist.

An explorer of lives now gone.

However, I feel uncomfortable entering these cold mausoleums, so I visited only a couple of houses.

Instead, for about a week, I have been exploring the external portions of the village and its surroundings. The houses are arranged in a random order with the most diverse features and dimensions. Some houses are reminiscent of ancient Viking residences, others appear to be medieval houses, others look somewhat modern.

The roofs tend to be curved inward due to the weight of the snow, especially on the older houses, and some have wooden ornaments and carvings. Others, instead, are very simple and austere.

There are some wide, elongated buildings. Some are simple, rectangular houses, others are very impressive buildings, while one seems to be a sort of dining hall.

There is a small temple dedicated to some deity. Unfortunately, I've never been interested in religious things, so I'm unable to recognize it.

There is a sort of square near the little port with a massive tree in the middle. It is of a dark, slightly bluish wood, without any leaves: so imposing and intimidating. The branches are covered with a thick blanket of snow, and the wind shakes the most flexible branches, producing a moaning and rustling sound. It must be thousands of years old.

"You must contain the soul of this place," I thought, caressing it.

There are various paths marked by strange rocks that start in the village, one of which leads to the lighthouse, another to a forest of blood-red trees along the cliff, several to unknown destinations, and one, apparently, to the menacing mountain.

It's all so silent and dead.

Many fragments and reflections from the valley of mirrors.

My interiority has once again become exteriority.

I feel so alone.

I feel so empty.

I decided to establish my "Base Camp" in a large house overlooking the port, perfectly intact, despite all the past solstices.

I can perceive the warmth that once dwelled in it, gesture after gesture, life after life, generation after generation.

There's a big dusty, worn bed. This was enough for a deep sleep in the cold of the forgotten house.

The past couple of days, I have been sitting on its roof for a few hours at a time. I like being immersed in the snow, letting myself be chipped and smoothed by the icy, howling wind. The cold helps me stay lucid.

And I observe.

I observe the condensation of my breaths; I look at the sky, illuminated by the two moons and billions of unknown stars; I observe the breaking of the waves on the snow-covered cliffs; I look at the tumultuous sea and the distant flashes of fireflies; I observe the lighthouse with its faint light that keeps calling me; I look at the mountain, so dark and imposing it defies the clouds.

I let my mind travel freely.

Crossing the sea to unknown lands, to new skies and new exotic peoples. Jumping into the past to admire the busy fishing boats entering and leaving the harbour. Returning to the days spent in Titran and the long sunset of my soul. Escaping from this excruciating inner pain that pierces me like so many sharp blades. Extinguishing this fire that blazes inside of me, slowly corrupting me.

Bringing me back to you. To your soft hair, your soft skin, your big green eyes ... To you.

Why are you not here anymore?

Why can’t I remember it?

The other night I witnessed another aurora in the sky. A whirling play of lights that lit the sky up green, with sudden celestial sounds to make everything more magical. The snow has only made everything more ethereal. As if I were in a dream.

How I wish you could have seen all this.

The young woman has finally started to recover a bit.

She spends more time awake and looks around.

She often has a grimace of pain on her face, I think because of her leg. Maybe I should give her some pain-killers ...

But she still does not speak.

She must be suffering a lot.

I understand you, but you seem to be a fighter, you've come this far.

I believe in you, girl. Hold on.

We are both survivors.

Currently, I have left her inside the boat. First, I need to see if this place is really deserted or not. It appears to have been abandoned for decades, if not more ... However, as a precaution, it is better to be ready to set sail at all times.

There is only one thing that does not make sense to me; if this place is uninhabited, as it seems ...

Then who turned on the lighthouse?

I definitely have to go and have a look up there in the next few days.

I have to protect this poor girl. No one imposes that on me, but I have to do it.

If this place is really dead and abandoned, as it seems, we will stay here in some of the houses for a while.

I have to put my fragments back together before continuing.

Maybe I'll restore one of the houses and explore this place better.

I need solidity.

I need answers.

I need help.

Help me, please.