the way there had been tough. And now there was a day of travel. Leaning against the wall, although Martin was an unspeakable: that was not the adventure I expected. They were on that old deserted mansion, which heard the rain falling outside while suffering from this eternal moment, become infinite timeout, which is believed, erroneously, the storm begins to subside. Abigail playing with some pebbles he had found resting on a shelf eaten. And Martin could not help but admire this simple action sensed as the only possible way to observe it without her, enraged after another of their discussions they blamed his inability to assume, once and for all, that it was sinking. For me it is not easy, Martin, but believe me, when you can not can not, she had said. And so it was thought. No doubt it was. And tomorrow we come to the North Cape, and peering over a rock to the world, remember other views the same, in less remote, more common, thinking that it might be easier to be a nomad of the world forever nesting in a human heart. And this time not even the unfathomable ocean would comfort him.
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