Sailing out of this safe port. I want to throw up in the sea. It's a fisherman's life, carrying the night and reflecting the stars on this island made of wood. It is so, why I feel so, "everything" and "all" at the same right time. It's a goodbye, I'm leaving. A short time. I don't want to return because I know I have to return. I want to return if I don't know how long it will last. I have a self-made map under my skin but no strength to walk it out alone, so please be my anchor. Or please be my wave, be my wind, I don't want to have a home tonight. I want to throw up in the sea.