The ship moves in sync with the sea. Not too hard. I can feel its swaying only as a strange, slow turning in my head. Everything moves slowly on this ship. In this mist. The people on shore, between the slate grey factories and empty parking lots, are too far away to be real to me.
I look at my hands. They are cold and white in the blue morning light. My skin is hard, ready to fight this place. The only sharp colour is that of the waves. It is a blue that resembles black.
Maybe I need to make a sound. That way, I might create a tear in this scene. I open my mouth and breathe. My breath comes out in funny round little clouds. No sound. I want to form a word. The beginning of a sentence. I open my mouth wide, move my lips and tongue. I am sure this is the way to speak. I am sure.
Everything remains silent.
Panicking, I start running. My feet hit the cool metal of the deck hard. I need to find a sound. Any sound will do. Then I slow down to a walk. I look underneath boxes and rummage between ropes. I have no idea what I am looking for. I don’t remember why I was in such a hurry.
I am sitting on the deck of a ship, and look at my hands in the blue morning light. I don’t like this mist. The only thing that resembles a colour is the blackish blue of the waves. And still, when I move, it seems like the movement is in blue. I look around. I think I can see people. They are far, and I am not sure. It could be a trick of the light.
I want to make a sound. I need to shout something to make a tear in the mist. I open my mouth.
No sound escapes.