Luna had a little bag. Inside the bag, she had a notebook, a pen, and a warm scarf.
She was standing on a boat. Not a small boat.
A big, white ferry. It was going from Bali to Hong Kong.
Luna had never travelled this long by boat before.
Usually, she took aeroplanes. But this time, she wanted something different. She wanted to feel the sea. She wanted to write about it.
“This is a new adventure,” she thought. She opened her notebook and wrote the date.
The boat left the port slowly. Luna stood on the deck. She watched Bali disappear behind her.
The green hills got smaller and smaller. Then they were gone.
The sea was everywhere.
“Hello, sea,” said Luna quietly.
The water was dark blue and deep. The waves were gentle.
The boat moved slowly from side to side. It was not scary. It felt like a big, slow dance.
Luna sat down on a wooden bench near the rail. She took a deep breath. The air smelled of salt and wind.
She started to write.
The sea has no walls. It goes on and on. I feel very small here. But also very free.
On the first evening, the sky turned orange and pink. Luna watched the sunset from the deck.
It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.
A man stood near her. He was older, with white hair and a kind face.
“First time on this route?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Luna. “Is it always this beautiful?”
“At sunset, yes,” he said. “In the middle of the night, it is dark and a little cold. But the stars — the stars are incredible.”
Luna smiled. She wrote that down too.
That night, she could not sleep. She got up and went to the deck.
The man was right. The stars were incredible.
There were no city lights here. No cars, no buildings, no noise. Just the boat, the sea, and the stars.
Luna looked up for a long time. She counted the stars. She could not count them all.
She felt very calm. She thought about Bali — the warm streets, the flowers, the food.
She thought about Hong Kong — the tall buildings, the harbour, the lights.
She was somewhere between those two worlds. Out here on the water, between the past and the next place.
She wrote: Sometimes the journey is the best part.
Two days later, Luna saw land.
Hong Kong appeared slowly. First, just grey shapes in the distance. Then, the buildings got bigger and clearer. Tall towers.
A harbour full of boats. Lights everywhere, even in the morning.
Luna stood at the front of the ferry.
Her scarf was around her neck. Her notebook was in her hand.
She had twelve new pages of notes.
She had written about the sea, the stars, the sunset, and the old man.
She had written about the sound of water at night and the smell of the ocean wind.
She felt something warm inside her chest. Not just excitement. Something quieter. Something like gratitude.
She was ready for Hong Kong.
But she also knew this: she would never forget the boat, the blue sea, and the stars above the waves.
She closed her notebook.
“Thank you, sea,” she said softly.
And the boat sailed into the harbour.
The end. Sweet dreams.