"There is something about leaving a place on a small boat - something about the movement of the waves, the noise of the engine: it is like you are leaving your life behind and yet, since you are part of the life you have left behind, part of you is still there. Dying, at its best, might be something like this. Everything was a memory, and everything was still happening in some extended present, and everything was still to come."
(isto podia ser eu. no ano 2000. a deixar Mindoro atrás de mim.)