It was a very tough day: a day of aching, a day of what might have been, a day of tears. He would manage by walking and by seeking out the horizon to remind of possibility and fresh dawns. He would manage by walking further and further and further until fatigue temporarily anaesthetised some part of an aching heart. He would manage by writing, by lifting weight and by running. Tomorrow also would be a tough day and so he would do the same. Why should it be easy? Don’t mess with the heart: be careful on wine-dark open seas.