Little Samuel

Marinka i hope you arent russian on this point When I was just a boy, I used to sit on the shore and listen to the old sailors’ tales. They said sirens were dangerous creatures, their voices driving men to madness and dragging them beneath the waves. Everyone feared those stories… everyone but me. I never heard a threat in them — only a promise of something strange and beautiful. And every night, I stared into the water, searching for a glimpse of proof that you were real. And then came that day. The ship I was on lost its way in the fog. The waves rose higher and higher, the cries of the crew swallowed by the roar of the storm. One by one, I saw them vanish into the abyss — the captain, the sailors… even my own father. The sea spared no one. Except me. They say I was washed ashore by luck. But I remember something different. I remember a silver shimmer flashing between the waves. I remember a song — gentle, yet powerful — holding me afloat when my arms had no strength left to fight. I don’t know if it was a dream or reality… but my heart tells me it was you. From that moment on, I belonged to the sea. No… from that moment on, I belonged to you....