Sanem was talking to an audience about her last novel, named “The phoenix and the albatross”; she was wearing her usual, ethnic clothes and some rings, the same rings worn by Can, who was driving his yacht throw the waves.

The woman was speaking aloud, explaining what she had written. Around her, two big posters, with the blue and white book cover; at the same time the sailor was docking the boat to the quayside. A moment, a rope, the stepladder, some words to another seaman, and he touched ground.

Sanem wasn’t as determined and concentrated as her forbidden love: while she was reading the letters, the words, the sentences one after the other, she reminded him, his glance, his smile, what he told to their common publisher. She was still in love.