He felt on his now numb legs the warmth of that past summer playing with his son.

The saltpeter matted his hair and beard as he kept remembering his life, abandoning himself adrift on a wet floating wooden plank.

He was the cook of a modest boat tha used harpoons as a way to communicate, and floating blood pools as message.

Apparently someone had received those messages and with unleashed violence, the sea proceeded to get rid of the insignificant invaders with huge wave blows.

His family needed the small money he would have earnt during his absence, an absence that would last forever now.

A large shadow emerged from the depths towards him.

He closed his eyes and felt what it meant to be part of Nature's balance.