From: Papa
Subject: Re: Bonne fête !

Chat fait plaisir, je t'embrasse très fort. Papa.

Standing on the shore, at the southernmost point of Finland, I hardly restrained my compulsion to take off shoes and socks in a run to the sea. The people in rubber boots and yellow protection overalls, playing in the sand with buckets and shovels, stood in violent contrast with the unearthly white grey light emanating from nowhere and everything, impossible. Sea as flawless mirror of the sky, so that one could imagine each entwined with the other in the invisible horizon. Water, water, water. It was not even cold, maybe warmer than the air.
As the rain intensified later in the day, while we were driving along the coast, I envisioned myself with indulging delight  plunged to mid-body in the mild water, the upper part in an air being more of water than actual air, quite close to be as wet as the sea itself so intense would the shower be - to the point the limit between two would vanish. Drenched to the bone with nothing to save from the element. Nothing to care saving anymore.
I need to swim. Soon.

In Hanko, while staring at the extraordinary sea, I saw a small ship sailing between the islands. So simple and basic, so neat against the white bleak light it resembled a children's drawing. I intimately understand, so very clear now, it has been the vessel-symbol for communication all through those years. What family was. It would then be surprisingly simple, only meaning much more than ever imagined, for the other side. That understood.
The tiny stitch I should have felt as soon as I read the message was only awaken as of tonight.