It does seem a little too demanding to fathom what distances you had traversed to reach those secret vibrations that you talk about. The first time, your words did seem to be forging some interesting waterways between island communities that had forgotten the art of exploration, that had forgotten that the waters weren’t absolute, that far away there could be land, there could be others… you were positing something so fundamentally, so categorically different, that I felt lost, and so did everyone else, I would imagine. We had no idea how wild the waters could get in these parts… trusting the communion that your mind had come to plunder from your sailing days, we, young and naive as we were, set out, bidding unnerving farewells to our mothers, clutching on to your accounts of rich adventures and wonderful discoveries… we had been too ambitious, and as soon as confusion began setting in, most jumped the ship… your words, now it seemed, were puzzles, and we most certainly were puzzled, to say the least… inadequacies surfaced in the form of disjunct monsters, fingers where eyes should have been, and eyes where nothing should have been… integrity of our worlds was at stake… before the moon had twice been full, most had altogether dropped the idea, either calling you a raving lunatic, or calling themselves unfit for this journey… actually most left unannounced.
My eyes were closed… I felt a spray of cool ocean brine… I cannot remember not being here… it was a moonless night, when your words started melting and I felt something happening… some sense of a sense making sense is all I can possibly call it… exhilarated, I called out to my mateys. It had begun!
Story Of The Footloose 