In tribute to you, human beings who are shipwrecked, drowned or rescued... In times past from Procida or Naples, today from Libya, Syria and even further afield. In tribute to the Mediterranean, to these female orphans who will never know where they came from, to the male orphans who will remain foreigners wherever they are washed ashore. To this mother in the middle, shedding her last salty tears into the middle sea. In tribute to her mourning, the only mourning which has no name. To the migrants and seafarers who rescue and welcome them. To those who care for them and comfort them. In tribute to those few who have not forgotten what is right and who resist. To the drifting bodies, strange driftwood which cannot be picked up, to the bodies devoid of life, only animated by scavenging appetites but much less than the reflection of a dead star on a wave. To the migrants, to the thoughts which haunt their crossing, to the endless hours, to their fear, to the cold of the night, to the thirst, to the heat of the day, to the salt which burns deep into their bodies.