It has been exactly one year since we left the shipyard in Monfalcone, a full 12 months of busy and colorful life under sail. Now I had to sail 5,500 nautical miles and return to my native Marmaris in less than two months.

Our crew consisted of me, three of my 2009 graduates, and a potentially new captain whom I was supposed to introduce to the yacht on my way back. In my condition, five were ideally divided into 3 shifts, 2 people each, where I stood by myself.

The very first crew member fell out of the crew before sunset. He felt so bad that we thought we could even come back, but he heroically lasted 15 days without food. Everything thicker than water rushed back, and he reached the Azores for sweet tea, having lost 10 kg.

I didn't follow wise advice and go up to the latitudes of Bermuda, but went directly to the Azores. It was clearly quieter, calmer, with fuel risks, but more comfortable for the team. The weather worked in stable cycles of 5 days, which always ended in a favorable calm, then a new headwind appeared, and everything happened again.

On a calm night, I went on watch and noticed an unusually bright sky. We were walking under the engine on completely smooth water, which reflected the entire moonless depth of space. After making sure everyone fell asleep and the Universe and I were left alone, I carefully covered all the appliances with lids and turned off the running lights. He silently snuck into the tank and sat on his very nose, hugging the twisted staysail. Loreena McKennitt's track “The Mystic's Dream” was played with headphones.

The long introduction plunged me into a state beyond time and place. The sky was reflected in the ocean's moving mirror, complemented by the starry flickering of plankton, which completely blurred the already invisible horizon, erasing in me everything that could hold back this flight. It was a moment worth living for, so short and so endless. I've stayed in it forever and learned how to go back to it at any time if I close my eyes and turn on the music.

When I came back to reality, I turned on the running lights, opened the appliances and sat down at the navigator's desk to write a letter that became my son six years later. He strengthened his desire to return to Marmaris as soon as possible and start a full life there. Azor was only 500 miles away, and they flew by completely unnoticed.

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