Will I climb the mast, just because she asks me? Up the rope ladders one after another, sail, topsail, topgallant, royal, skysail, moonraker? Just to taste the night wind, feel the canvas rough in my hands? Will the wind blow the stars out of the sky, their light dripping from my fingers? Will I taste the salt spray on my tongue, and wonder if it's really her tears? Will she love me too, when Polaris is floating over the white line in the middle of the highway? God, I hope so!
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