No matter how hard I search, the internet will not uncloud my memory. How many secrets are trapped there, out of reach? I have been searching for a specific edition of a small and rather famous book by the French resistance writer, Vercors. In my mind its cover is blue, but nothing I find confirms my thoughts. The harder I think, the longer I search, the more frayed my thought gets, and the more afraid I am that the truth is not there. It is gone. I am waiting a response from the sky regarding the silence of the sea.