After a few far too turbulent years, I found myself sitting on a beach promenade on a cold rainy autumn day in the town in which I grew up. The town I love to hate and hate to love. I had followed my dreams. Moved abroad because of love, worked at the institute of my dreams, and all of the sudden I was back home out of love, workless, useless and apathetic enough to make preparing breakfast seem like a whole life’s work. All I could think was: I do no longer want high mountains and low valleys. All I want is the constant moving ocean floating by. If I can live as the ocean I might alright. Not treating things too seriously, a high tide here a low tide there, no need to stress, just float by.