Puerto Escondido
Every time I went out with the Pilar, after having looked at the bow that cut the blue transforming it into luminous silver, the expanse of the sea that hid the snare of the sharks and barracudas, after having admired the playful game of the fish flyers and the skill of Papa with the line, I felt the desire to lie down. Then I fell deeply asleep.
So profoundly that you don't hear the roar of the engine, the roll of the boat, the glare of the sun on your face. I woke up on the way back, near the port or even after crossing the Morro.
"I'm worried, Daughter," Papa told me one day. If at first he thought that it was the change in climate that caused this tiredness, knowing my interest in every new thing he could not explain how I could fall asleep just sailing on that ocean of which we had often spoken with emotion. How about letting El Feo see me, El Monstruo's brother, a very good doctor?
Dear Papa, always so ready to worry about me. It seemed exaggerated to call a doctor for a bit of sleepiness: otherwise, I had not felt so well in a long time.
Miss Dora agreed too, Papa insisted.
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