Once upon a time, a Maldivian fisherman was sailing in the sea at night. On board he had a large clay pot full of drinking water, so once he got thirsty, he opened the pot ready to drink. But he never dared. What he saw inside was the moon itself, shining, bright and full.

Thrilled, he quickly slammed down the lid to capture it inside, and being a good citizen, carried the precious pot to the Palace to present the treasure to the Sultan. 

The Sultan, a learned man, laughed at the fisherman so, much so that in shock he dropped the clay pot, breaking it on the ground.

The water spilt and evaporated carrying away the fisherman’s moon and illusions.

“What have you done, – whispered the poor fisherman. – You let the moon go.”

The story seems familiar.

Haven’t you ever tried to carry the moon home, in some form or another only to show it to your friends and loved ones, who laughed so that broke the clay pot and let the moon away?

Moon carriers, poetry translators, poets, – we still try to carry our precious dreams to the others, and leave them unprotected, unnoticed, ready to vanish.

I always dream about the past.

All my travelling is pure and simple past.

I read guides and sites on places I went to, once and am not likely to return to the moment I want to.

But those memories live on in my mind.