The pier is a special place, I believe.

Poles and a base, that's it. Nothing else separates us from the water. But it’s not just that, because the pier is a place of arrival and departure, it’s the docking point during a storm, but it’s not too safe, it’s just a place of passage. The pier is not forever, it’s not as stable as a harbor.

The pier is not a harbor. The harbor is stagnant, the pier is reciprocal. And who are we to ourselves? A harbor or a pier? And is love a harbor or a pier? Or is it a stagnant pool?

My love stories can all be set on a pier, not to make a metaphor, but because it actually all happened around piers. Maybe because I am a stagnant harbor, worse than the one in Genoa. I stink and pollute everything around me, that’s why love uses me as a pier, because staying would be impossible. I am so small that from afar I seem like a pier, I seem like movement, change, I seem alive, but then in reality I am nothing but the stench of death, the death of life, life in decay.

Yes, that's it. I find piers fascinating and harbors depressing. My love, you were that pier I wished I could have been, you were captivating, I was just depressing.