4 hours after 8, the most optimal mode not only for watching, but also for life in general. I started to get enough sleep more than ever; proper nutrition, complete absence of external stimuli and a clear routine made me look inside more, as everything on the outside remained the same.

Moving further south, the wind became warmer and calmer. The ocean was getting bigger and I was getting smaller. After 4 days, something changed and I learned to notice everything around me. The sky changed its color, the sunset was different every time, and the night looked more like a fairy tale. Falling meteors in all directions, and my meager imagination couldn't keep up with such a flood of desires.

The sun always sets on the course, and you look at it all evening, moving in its direction, prolonging the sunset. The sun always rises aft, and you run away from it all the way, prolonging the sunrise. The moon is almost an hour late every day, and the zodiacs shift slightly with it. You live by the ship's clock and you run through time, moving forward but staying in the past. It seems like there's nothing around, but there's so much you've never thought about before. Mindfulness isn't a trend yet, and you're not even sure if it's the trend, but you're definitely living in the moment — on Earth, in the ocean, and with yourself.

Perhaps the key to understanding ourselves and the world around us was that we carried out all our shifts one at a time. There was so little wind that we didn't see a single lamb, just a huge run-up from the north and a minimum east wind. We only met each other at meals and sometimes stood together for the first hour of the shift. But it seems that each of us crossed the ocean alone with our own thoughts, distracted only by discussing the next menu for the day.

Instead of the planned 14 days, we crossed the Atlantic Ocean in 19 days, a date that has always been with me since I was born. We were all pretty tired and rested; I had had enough sleep for years to come and seemed to be much wiser. Everything went very easily and not at all the way I imagined it; of course, there were sudden clouds at night with gusts of up to 35 knots, broken gennakers, rubbed down hales and minor repairs. But overall, it was a vacation in which everyone was completely alienated from everyday life and completely immersed in a completely new reality, realizing their insignificance in this vast world where the mind is endless as the universe, and the body is smaller than a grain of sand in it.

Of course, we played who would see the land first; of course, we were waiting for this shore and the opportunity to land on it. But at the same time, I didn't expect all the magic of the ocean to disappear the next morning, and that would not be enough for me. I got into a new rhythm of life in such a way that if I didn't introduce possible difficulties into this reality, it seemed like I didn't have to stop.

On the shore, we were told welcome to Antigua and Barbuda, but we need to go back to where we left and stamp our passports to leave the EU. After hours of paperwork at customs, a mini-course on seasonal ocean navigation and registration at the marina, I wanted to make them all go across the ocean in order to somehow reason and sow more than money, ink and paper into them.

Peter and Nikita are family people, and they flew home on the very first night flights, tickets for which they bought by phone through someone else's hands on their way to the islands. The first morning on the beach, I woke up feeling like a broken regime, a poisoned body and full of emotional emptiness.

It seems that Gleb, whom I have come to love, is still there, in the ocean, and I should think about how to meet him again and get to know him a little better.

‍