“People,” I recall her saying, “They are like boats in a harbour. They think they are free, but they’re really not.”
“Where’s the freedom in only being someone you’re supposed to be?” she asked. “Where’s the freedom in being moored to paperwork, to rules that are unspoken and unwritten? How free do you feel to be made to enjoy the sun’s bright glow behind a desk in an artificially lit room?”
“We’re too scared to be free.” I whispered. “Freedom is dangerous. Out at sea, there are storms. The waves are so monstrous that their very shadows instill fear in our hearts. How much trust can you put in one boat?”
“But don’t you want to know?? Don’t you ever wonder—”
I shook my head. And her voice, the light in her eyes died down.
Later, she was gone, her risk had not paid off. And I was safe, warm and well-fed. But it still felt as though she had won much more than I ever would.