The white whale.

We´re trying to enlarge our payroll more and more, reserve brilliant destinations far from here. Priority: to gain money and escape, forget. I guess we need to dream about remote landscapes, scribbling new languages and drawing forbidden oceans, because we are undergoing bad times at home, in our such real neighbourhoods, around our unsettling present time.

But we are wrong. We´ve forgotten these private paradises hidden in old texts, asleep on the bookcases. Think about it: You should venture, bet on something safe, open your eyes. Look around, search for a new conversation with a book, take a walk. I can see a great collection of answers near here, in front of you, misplaced among bills and documents.

Escape. Smell salty water. Can you feel it? I bet you wouldn't dare to read "Moby Dick" now. Why not?

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way...