Ostend_Day 5_The sailor

Today they would put me over the shoulders of the Sailor from the National Monument for the Sailors. Statues don’t speak, just like me, so we would have a lot to talk about with each other. But we hadn’t counted on the steeplejack who was actually a not-steep-enough-jack. They lifted me as high as they could with the not-steep-enough-jack and took multiple pictures of me, to ‘stitch’ (that’s what the photographer called it) all these images and make a montage with them.

I asked the Sailor what he was looking at. He said that he keeps staring at the same point at the horizon. I asked him if his eyes had always been made of stone or if they had turned to stone by always looking at the exact same point. He said that his eyes are the collective eyes of all the dead sailors. That the eyes of the dead sailors turn to stone and then become his eyes. And that he looks at the horizon with thousands of dead Sailor eyes at the same time. He asked me whether I was a boy or a girl. I said I didn’t know but that not knowing made me very modern. I told him that there used to be a lighthouse here for the sailors at the horizon to see the light from the lighthouse. He said he didn’t know that. That he thought it was very special that living sailors at the horizon used to look over here, and that dead sailors now look from here to the horizon.
I told him I went to the Végéetje yesterday. That is was a very nice café. He said that the people from the Végéetje were here now. He said that in their way of watching he could feel their joy and sorrow. I told him that I would love to sail to the horizon like sailors do, but that I could not float and that I would sink to the bottom of the ocean if I ever ended up in the water. I asked him if my eyes, which I do not have, would then also turn to stone and become his eyes. He said that that question was way too complicated for a monument like him. It is also a complicated matter for me, I said. I’m not sure to tell whether I’m sinking or dying if I fall overboard.