There are moments, days or nights that you hope to never forget. Last night and dawn are part of these bites of life.

By the end of yesterday evening, the wind was slowly dying, the day was spent sliding forward with the small kite to keep a tight angle to the wind.

Late at night, the boat surgeon Dr. Costa called a gennaker peeling that nobody believed was sensible to do, but he did it anyway and hoisted the bigger kite.

We stood parked for a little while in the middle of nowhere of North Atlantic (36:14N 48:46W), but slowly we picked up small speed again.

That choice created the magic of moving for all night at a small steady pace, keeping the boat floating literally in the sky.

No sounds, no waves, no boat within the horizon, just a black bottom with starry plankton merged with the endless Milky Way above.

At dawn, colours filled up the eyes.

Turning on the engine to motor through the centre of the high pressure would have been much easier and faster, but what I told you about are some of the deepest reasons why we are here in between of nobody’s spaces.