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In my spare time, always fascinated by maps, I played to count how many seas I remembered: without repeating and without help, the Argentino, the Red, the Black, the Caspian, the Mediterranean, the Adriatic, the Tyrrhenian, the Dead ... As I could go on, I wondered then why it is spoken of "the seven seas" and finally I discovered that the expression comes from a long long time ago, when it was said that "whoever wants to reach China must cross the seven seas". Thinking about that ancient ship heading to the Far East gave me more excuses to distract me. In my business hours (literally, the denial of leisure: that is, when yes or yes I must sit down to work), my desk looked like a raging sea: in such a mess, the pens were sunk in an ocean of post-its and the pencils drowned in a tsunami of papers. I am one of those who needs to have an orderly table so that ideas fit. Therefore, the arrival at my desk of the Captain of the Order put forward towards the organization. Its iconic shape, which recalls the paper boats that we put together at class break, brings me back to the distant years in which I enumerated the seas I knew. Mine is white, the same color as those made with sheets torn from the notebook. In a compartment I keep the pens; in another, the pencils; in one more, pencil sharpeners and erasers; in the background, the bed bugs and the clips. Once spread over a thousand corners, now all the elements are in a harmonious coexistence, contained by the ship. It's Noah's ark of library items! A long time after my school years in which I made paper boats, I read that the ship is the universal symbol of the vehicle of existence. Everything makes sense. The house is in order, then. Like any ship, the Captain of The Order always pulls forward and, for the desk or life, offers a promise of continuous advance: it is not by chance that it is said, when we are all in it, that we embark on a collective project.

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