Three Stories

We were drinking wine that İdris calls `dogkiller` from the bottle. Our backs leaning against the walls of the lighthouse. A thin light appears on the sea, far away, almost at open sea. Then it disappears like a dream. The lighthouse combs the white foams fluttering like ghost ships. I became startled. I see it once again; how dare this ship challenge the sea? "What on earth do they think they are doing in such weather, are they out of their minds?"