act39side

Adios, amigo.

The salt ship sails off slowly. On the deck, all is quiet, as the crew watches the people they know gradually became smaller.

A few rush up to the edge, as though they had changed their minds and wanted to jump across to the other ship, but are forced to stop as the distance between them grows.

They each watch the other go further and further away.

Look, Javier! The mast of La Conquista!

Ha... hahaha...

Atop the mast, Juana lifts the hems of her dress, as if stepping atop the setting sun.

The fading light adorns her dress with a golden glow.

Wind lifts white grains of salt from the ground like blowing snow.

All eyes are fixated upon her dance, both on this ship and the other.

They look up in silence. The ships sail in opposite directions, with only a few eyes glancing at the sea of white salt before them, and the sunset growing closer or further.

Away they go, until the figures on the other ship have become as small as grains of salt.