He watched the sea as the waves came in, he loved the white water stream. The sound of movement, the beautiful wind, the seagull’s repeating scream.
He’d seen the storms, the waves like teeth, giant squids and whales. The Kraken he had felt underneath, the oceans he had sailed.
A desert toad, a savage in Rome, no purpose, never whole. Land would never be his home, was never part of his role.
One last trip out on the beast, his wife, his life, his whore. In his pram he went to the east, never to return to shore.