Head first into the black and blue rips of the ocean back. Trying to sink the penetrating feeling of doubt, forever in the stomach of the sea floor. But not all the crew jump, some enjoy the lonely life of stale bread, salty water and pecking conversation with the seagulls. There is one though, whom survives on a little extra. He acts the same as any other during the day.. garish like a brute, but during the evenings when light is lacking. He writes, nervously and with the worry of others judgment. His short segments read as if he were brought up to be a story teller.