This is what the womb of the sea has taught me. Those who have seen the truth will always be inconsolable. Only he who has never been in danger is really saved. A ship might even appear, now, on the horizon, and speed here on the waves to arrive a second before death and take us away, and have us return alive, alive-but this would not save us, really. Even if we ever found ourselves ashore somewhere again, we shall never again be saved. And what we have seen will remain in our eyes, what we have done will remain on our hands, what we have felt will remain in our souls. And forever, we who have known the truth, forever, we the children of horror, forever, we the veterans of the womb of the sea, forever, we the wise and the sagacious, forever – we shall be inconsolable.
He likes “dominant woman” who would treat him sharply. He wants to be tied slightly, humiliated, kept on a leash. He has just only strongly submissive fantasies and he couldn’t practice them in his regular life…on the land. He had never told them to his wife because he was afraid she would consider him a pervert. And he doesn’t feel like a pervert. He has just particular imagination and needs. He doesn’t want to hurt anybody or to scare anybody. It’s only as he is, his true self. And he is suffering because he has always pretended to be someone else. He is scared that one day, people who he cares about would discover him and would run away with an expression of disgust on their faces. It is such an effort to fit to people’ expectations…
It’s a sweet romantic afternoon offshore, at the high sea. There is a blue horizon around us and the shape of Sicilian coast far away. The water is incredible and its color harmonizes blissfully with the white board of the yacht. We are all drunk and a little stoned on marijuana. The water sways our boat and I feel like it dance slightly on the surface. And it’s hot. Really hot. The air is hot and humid.
It’s not like I shouldn’t be worrying about that guy whose true name certainly I don’t even know, nor of the place I can’t leave as only need to or wish. But it’s him who is alone on the boat and it’s him who wants to be tied and kicked in the ass, not me. So, what does it tell about the balances of risk between us? Isn’t he risking more than us? Maybe he is just able to trust more or maybe it’s the danger that excites him. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t attract me, and it also doesn’t matter.