We chose discomfort, said the hero, we chose to leave as we got home, we chose failure rather than success. We chose to change constantly, at the point of not being able to recognize ourselves at the end of each day. These were the words of the hero, we rather failed than succeeded because failure is the continuation of life, success the end of it. We learned from discomfort, noise, discontent. We chose the worst boats, mates that others rejected, the contentious and those deemed unreliable. We left with no chance for success, our lack of opportunity was our only hope. We chose impossible challenges, we aimed for everything to achieve anything. We wanted to experience, not to own, we loaded the ships with enough food and wine for just a leg of our trip, and if we took riches from the places we visited, it was to bring back relief to those who were not fit to travel. All wealth was an obstacle to us, an impediment. We were mad of the madness of life, we walked looking around fiercely, nothing could escape us, we sailed scanning the horizon for the next island, the next berth. Every encounter showed us a different form of life, a different way. We were hurt, we were attacked, we were rapt, we drowned, we burned, we died of hunger and thirst, we glided by narrow paths, and always ended our lives early, in the middle of something.