My first time in the Atlantic was on a 20-meter-long fishing boat, large enough to move considerably away from the coast and small enough to make us feel like a nutshell floating at the mercy of the ocean. As it could not be otherwise, my baptism was of fire... or rather of water, a huge storm (at least that's how I felt it) with waves that passed over us, torrential rain, zero visibility. Mixed feelings of excitement, fear, power and weakness flooded every corner of my being. At the same time, I felt like a point in the immensity and the protagonist of a perfect storm…but with a clear happy ending! At the end of the storm, the tasks did not stop, while we checked every centimeter of the boat and arranged the belongings, the dawn welcomed us with a caress in the soul, the landscape clouded me, there I remained abstracted, with the inexplicable feeling that still fills me Today every time I weigh anchor.