My gift is art

It all started with what happened to Dad. I was in 2nd of violin, with good grades.

My dream was to be concertmaster of a major orchestra. I wanted to make music my life. But dad died, and left us all in poverty, damn luck. I had to leave the conservatory. Yes, I was in 2nd of violin and dreamed of being a good musician.

After that, I went through occasional jobs to survive, until I had that incident. And I spent three years in prison. I swear it was not my fault. It was an accident, nothing more. Damn luck. It was not my fault.

When I was paroled, my life was in disarray. Luckily, I kept my old violin. Now I have a fixed place in the merchandise entrance of a department store. It is perfect because it echoes. In the best shopping area of Valencia. A lot of people pass by. It is a very coveted spot. They only open the door at night when I am not there.

I have to get up early because, if not, the place would have been already taken. And it's mine.

I'm not a beggar. My gift is art. Beggars hate me and they will take my site at the slightest slip. So I have to bring my own food every day, I can’t leave the place if only a moment.

Today, I would kill the bastard who did it. When I returned from the loo, the case was open. And the violin was gone.  Oh what rage burns inside of me! And I left it hidden behind boxes of beer, covered with the blanket. Damn luck. The violin is of no use for them at all! They only did it for me to leave the portal!

Today, I came back as usual. I left the case open with a few coins inside, as I always do, but nobody has dropped anything. How will they if I could not play any music because I have been stolen my violin!

And the fact is that my violin is somewhere, I can visualize it, probably intact, because they will try to sell it. God, God, God, where will it be? I spent all day waiting just in case it is just a joke. But no, no one has come. I do not know what I would have done if I catch the one who robbed me.

Yes, you may report it to the police, but I have a criminal record, who would believe me? Meanwhile, I'm still waiting. Maybe whoever it was will give it back to me tomorrow.

I have no money for a new one which would sound like mine and with no violin, I earn nothing.

I do not know what I'm going to do.

Damn luck.

A storm in the Gulf of Lyon

I would like to share you a story about a gifted and wilful person. A story of leadership and bravery that I’ll never forget. A story that began at sea.

It was a pitch-black night. We were cruising in an old 30 mt Ketch with two wooden masts, through the Gulf of Lion, in the Mediterranean, a place famous for its solid winds,

THIS BOAT

We cruised on the engine and the mizzen sail.

Gradually, a tempest started to mount.

The wind whistled in the rigging, the ship slammed against the waves and we, a group of tourists, were trying to sleep in our hammocks.

Then, out of the blue, or, shall I say, out of the black, we heard a strong sound of wood breaking and a big splash.

We went on deck and the scene sent shivers down my backbone: the mizzen mast has broken in three pieces and was floating in the dark sea with all the ropes, cables, sails and electronic equipment attached.

The boat could not be managed dragging that mess along.

Nothing is more dangerous than a vessel drifting in the middle of a storm. A wave may topple you while standing adrift; the broken mast may impact on the side of the boat and open a leak.

We could sink. We may die.

It was then, when the captain and ship-owner, Iñaki, showed us his mettle.

He probably was scared: he may lose everything he had in life: the boat where he leaved and worked, and even his own life. He may be scared, but was not afraid: he knew what to do.

First, he had to make a team out of a random group of inexpert tourists. Fear, actually, was the glue that kept the group together.

Second, he had to give a mission to this team, and the mission was clear: to lift that mess of cables on-board to make the boat free to navigate again.

Iñaki started to give orders.

The strongest in the team was launched into the dark sea and, swimming, tried to tie the bundle to four halyards from the 3 jibs and the mainsail.

He was successful.

The rest of us were assigned to pull the halyards and, centimetre by centimetre, try to raise the bundle on-board.

The task took about two hours of pulling and another 3 of clearing the mess.

In the meantime, it dawned. With blisters in our hands, drained and tired, but relieved, we were cruising again.

When we disembarked in Palamós (Girona), I said good-bye to Iñaki. His face was dismal; he had to make yet another costly repair to the boat. But, in another gesture of bravery, he said:

- I will complete the season anyhow, with a single mast. We are not racing regattas, after all.

And the moral of the story is:

“Be scared, you can’t help that, but don’t be afraid”