The horizon always connects me with myself through that line that separates the sky from the sea and that is impossible to reach. I remember the first time that, as a child, I became aware that no matter how much we sailed towards that line, we would not be able to defeat the distance that separated us from it.
Dressed in my favourite Weekend Max Mara garments, I feel the salt caress my shirt while my skirt performs a contemporary dance. I take off my shoes to feel how my feet gradually take root again and in the distance I see Lucretia approaching.
I step foot on deck after a couple of decades and find myself trying to tie up the loose ends of my past. In the cabin I see the black and white photo of my grandmother, still a child, with her family, whose frame has not been taken down in all this time.
But as soon as I take the helm, all the fears, all the doubts, fade into the distance. Seeing myself at the controls of the boat makes me believe in myself. It makes me feel that anything is possible. That I can go wherever I want, even beyond the horizon.
