You go out for cigarettes and are tempted by the commonplace: to leave and start anew, in other places, with other people. You have entered every other day the train station and watched the departures, but today you buy a ticket and board. Several hours later you are on a ferry and face the salty breeze, and old, forgotten projects flood your imagination. You are expecting to have some money left, and shop for clothes at the island's mall. Once in your hotel you take a shower, ceremoniously remove your ring, and walk downstairs to try and meet someone. Then suddenly realize you don't actually have any cigarettes, and go and buy some. By the first puff you are already exhausted. You get back to your room and fall in bed with your clothes on. You wake up at home to the barks of your dog. You wander about the house, and still cannot find the ring you lost two nights ago.