pour Dodie.

Sorry Mother, I am leaving to become a pirate
Father, I do not care.
I have found a ship to stow away on where day and night do not matter, the only pursuit is happiness.
I do not know the language and I know the future is never written.
I may drown, the ship may sink, but to stay on dry land is poisonous.
The land for which I sail is in the past and somehow it is the future I so desire.
Every even is a memory.
The food is to be enjoyed with good company and the wine flows freely.
Maybe the sea air has got to my head and I am suffering delusions, but to die old is nothing without speaking of adventures
in far away lands and loves so full of wonder they cannot possibly exist in this plain.


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