The man who travelled the sea, escaped his land, avoided dead too close. The boat was clearly unsafe and overcrowded, but now he was in and besides how he could blame other people like him trying to save their lives. Hope was running high; when the winds began to smooth down and the current made easier to row forwards, the boat broke down. It was evident, a rusty noise signed the flaw. In the middle of the journey, he jumped into the deep blue. Arms extended he swam. Other passengers were floating in the distance, pieces of fabric confused him with fish, rocks and panic scattered around. He did not want to see, only the rays of light permeating the sea, drawing a passage, a tunnel somewhere safe kept him alive.
After hours the shore was getting closer, few more meters and he was there. His breathing got harder, his head skimmed the surface, filled the lungs with oxygen, then sank back into the sea. The documents and few other possessions slipped away with the current. It does not matter now, he thought. His eyes salty red, gave not chance for a gaze beyond. His arms ached, exhaustion never felt so lengthy, yet he was determined not to let tiredness win over. His head was heavy under the summer sun, an object brushed his arm. He was alone in the immensity, swimming with his muscles, pushing his body forwards. His torso helped balancing the arms and his feet were swinging back and forth. He swam with his brain trying not to loose concentration, his arteries connecting much needed fluids, his bones, the solid frame of a man, his heart beating hard.