Three Stories

We were drinking wine that İdris calls 'dogkiller' from the bottle.

Our backs leaning against the walls of the lighthouse.

A thin light appears on the sea, far away, almost at open sea.

Then it disappears like a dream.

The lighthouse combs the white foams fluttering like ghost ships.

I became startled.

I see it once again; how dare this ship challenge the sea?

"What on earth do they think they are doing in such weather, are they out of their minds?"