The sailor prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the sea, and the smell of the wind itself, cleansed by the rain of an evening storm.

The air is precious to the sailor, for for he knows that all things share the same breath―the sea, the tree, the beasts, and the man.

The men on land do not seem to notice the air they breathe. They have been suffocating for many days, and are numb to the smell.

But if these men were to leave the land, they would remember that the air is precious. That the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.

The wind gave us our first breath and also receives our last sigh. And long after we are gone the wind will give our children the spirit of life.