This sea is deep and dark. This sea is quiet and vast. This sea merges with the sky at night. This sea will not echo. This sea is very cold. This sea can swallow you in the blink of an eye! This sea does not forgive carelessness. The currents on this sea flow invisibly beneath the surface. The water in this sea pours through everything in it: shipwrecks, bones, old clothes, last meals, cars, footlockers, mirrors, hairbrushes, trash, coins, dishes, anchor chains, pottery, pillows, planes, lost lives, remnants of trade and warfare. This sea erases all fingerprints and absorbs all treasure. Who will find it? Who will want what's left?
There are monuments in this sea, eroding. Out there, someone built a tower. It looks like a spike or a lighthouse; they just pounded it into the floor like a nail. No, that's not true. It took a long time to build, and it probably served some useful purpose. Or someone's purpose, anyway. Maybe it saved someone's life. Maybe it led to great discoveries. Maybe it was a place to rest and think. When the weather turned bad, was it safe and dry? Or did they look at each other and wonder what it was like to drown? On clear days did they feel mighty, like Vikings or pioneers? Or were they lonely -- who knows when someone will come to see you out there?
They finally got through with it. No one uses it now. When one of the sailors was leaving he put a banner on the side as a joke. No one really comes to this place anymore. Get it? When they left everyone was supposed to take what they had, they weren't supposed to leave anything behind. That's so no one would be tempted to come and loot it afterwards. You know, they might get hurt and sue or something. There aren't any ladders or ropes. The only real way back onto it is with a helicopter, and most thieves don't own helicopters (or they have better things to do with them if they do).
But of course, not everything went back. Most people forget something. Usually it's toothpaste or razorblades or deodorant. You know, something replaceable. Sometimes it's other things, memories or trinkets. In one room, someone left behind a sweater and a pack of gum. In another, someone left behind six pornographic magazines. In one room, someone left a book written in the 50's. Inside the book is a picture; it must have been taken recently. Was it just a bookmark? Why was it left behind? Who owned the book? Who are the girls, and why are they so happy? Is this the last time they all saw each other, or will they meet again now that the tower is through being used? How long before it won't matter anyway?
I think the owner just forgot the book. I think they'll slap their forehead and say "damn!" or something when they remember. I think they'll wish they hadn't left it behind. I think the picture's not that important, it just reflects a feeling and a time. I don't think it matters if it got left to the sea. I think the heart that keeps a memory alive beats forever. I think no one ever really stops loving anyone.