After having loved we lie close together and at the same time with distance between us like two sailing ships that enjoy so intensely their own lines in the dark water they divide that their hulls are almost splitting from sheer delight while racing, out in the blue under sails which the night wind fills with flowerscented air and moonlight

• without one of them ever trying to outsail the other and without the distance between them lessening or growing at all.

But there are other nights, where we drift like two brightly illuminated luxury liners lying side by side with the engines shut off, under a strange constellation and without a single passenger on board: On each deck a violin orchestra is playing in honor of the luminous waves. And the sea is full of old tired ships which we have sunk in our attempt to reach each other.