The local legend from the town of Lierganes tells of a young man from the north who had rough scaly skin similar to that of a fish and found comfort while swimming. However, he disappeared one night after swimming to later be found five years later by fishermen in the southern seas of the country. Brought back to his home town, the young man barely spoke and sometimes went days without eating. He eventually disappeared yet again but never was found after. Thus it left the town of Lierganes a legend to be continued on through the centuries over meals, campfires even perhaps, or in a small museum filled with thirty some students.
The mystery of where the man went and how and why he disappeared captured the students' attention as well as mine. What could have happened? Stories that end with a cliff hanger like that always leave me hanging on the thought of what happened next. Did he really live in the sea for the rest of his life? No one, I suppose, will ever truly know.
The fact stands still though that I am a bit bothered of not knowing for certain of the ending. But then again, when looking at my own life story, I suppose I never have a true ending either. Even with my time running up in Spain, it has been a good story so far. Like the fish man whose story appeared to end with jumping back into the sea, neither will my story end with me crossing the sea back home. Because good stories appear to end just when they are about to begin. I suppose the fish man and I have something in common. We're both in search of a new life. New adventures. New beginnings. But we are not in search of endings.
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