25/09/2026
another story: ( i wrote it some years back)
I know it takes a hell of a lot of guts to decide to just drop everything and head off into the unknown.
I’ve done it plenty of times in the past; sometimes I regretted it, while other times I still think about it—even now,
inside the gilded cage I chose to build for myself by following society’s blueprint: wealth, family, obligations.
Just imagine walking away from it all now—leaving my horses my dogs, my chikens,behind and heading off
to Africa (I went there for two months many years ago, and I’ve made a vow to go back).
Anyway, I’ve got a great story for you.
About twenty-odd years ago, I owned a bar, right by the sea.
One morning, a large, stunning, brand-new catamaran arrives.
Its sole passenger—a handsome, tall man in his forties from South Africa—comes in and orders a quick double wh**ky;
he downs it immediately and asks for a second, followed by a third, and then, after the sixth or seventh,
he sits at a secluded table by the water’s edge, spending the rest of the day in a daze, gazing out at the open sea.
The next day and the day after that, it’s the same story.
I concluded that he was an alcoholic, and since he hardly ever spoke, I stopped thinking about him.
However, days later—one afternoon—I noticed him alone in the nearly empty shop, sitting at his favorite table,
facing the sea and sobbing.
To cut a long story short, he told me a story that went like this:
He had been a successful pilot of small crop-dusting planes, owning his own company; in the Cape area of south africa.
he sold it to realize his lifelong dream of traveling across the vast world, discovering new paradises,
and living in harmony with nature.
He used the proceeds from the sale to build the catamaran and set off on his maiden voyage
with his wife and their three-year-old daughter.
He sailed from Africa to Egypt in ten days, but while passing through the Suez Canal,
his child contracted an illness; after three days of high fever, she passed away at sea.
Suddenly, the dream turned into a nightmare that only deepened when his wife blamed him for the tragedy,
filed for divorce, and left him alone in his bitter grief.
I hardly noticed the days go by, and there he was before me, weeping.
The story has a happy ending, because I managed—with great skill—to first get him to stop drinking,
and secondly, to bring his wife back after a battle involving psychological pressure
(in the end, I sent her a photo of a stunning woman I’d arranged to caress him, with the message: "now or never").
She came running back into his arms within two days...
A short while later, they left for the Caribbean to pursue their original dream, and I wish them
All the best, with all my heart.
But this story should be read by all the romantics who believe life is paved with rose petals,
And they should know that I wish them the best, too.
