Thirty-seven weeks ago, I was sitting at my computer, doing what I do most evenings—researching things I might want to pursue in the future. I was searching for sailing when a picture appeared on my screen.
It was a catamaran. A Lagoon 43.
I clicked on it. Then I clicked on it again. I watched videos. I explored the official website. I looked at the specifications, the cabin layout, the way the sun hit the deck in certain photographs. Hours passed. I did not realize how much time had gone by until the sun had already set outside my window.
I closed the browser.
But I could not close my mind.
Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed. And still, I kept thinking about that ship. The Lagoon 43 lived in my head rent-free. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her. Every time I imagined the future, she was there.
At some point, I realized the truth: I had to either let it go or commit to it completely. There was no middle ground. No compromise. No “maybe someday.”
So I made a choice. I would not let it go.
That ship became my purpose. That moment—37 weeks ago, staring at a picture on a screen—that was the birthplace of my decision to move to Limassol. That was the moment I understood what I was actually working toward.
The Marina
A few days after I arrived in Limassol, I took a walk to the marina. I wanted to see the ships. I wanted to feel what it was like to be near the water, near the dreams people were living out on their boats.
The sun was warm. The sea was beautiful. I walked slowly, taking in the sight of each boat. Different sizes, different colors, different stories.
Then I stopped.
I could not move.
Roughly 25 meters away from me was a Lagoon 42. An older model than the 43, but a Lagoon nonetheless. The exact ship I had been dreaming about for 37 weeks was right there, floating in front of me, in Limassol.
The environment disappeared. The other boats disappeared. The people around me disappeared.
All I could see was her.
I smiled. A big smile that I could not control. And I started to move forward, closing the distance between us. Every step was slow and intentional. Every meter felt like a gift. And when I got close enough to really see her—the design, the curves, the details—I realized something.
She was more beautiful in person than she was in my imagination.
I stood there for a long time. Just looking. Just being near her. Just understanding that this dream was real. It was not a picture on a screen anymore. It was floating right in front of me in my new city.
Anytime I need inspiration now, I know exactly where to find her. She is waiting for me at the marina.
The First Trade
Yesterday was FOMC day. The Federal Open Market Committee made their decision, and the market reacted.
I had prepared for this. I had different scenarios planned. Different trades for different outcomes. The plan was simple: tight stop losses on the hourly timeframe, no fixed profit target. This trade was not about one moment of profit. It was about something bigger.
The trade was about the direction of central bank policy and its ripple effects across different assets.
Four assets. Four trades. One idea.
Long Gold. Short the Dollar Index. Long Russell 2000. Long EURUSD.
The allocation was weighted: 5 parts to gold, 4 to the dollar short, 2 to the Russell, 1 to EURUSD. A starter position. Not aggressive. Not reckless. Just a beginning.
The idea was simple: continuous rate cuts would weaken the dollar and strengthen alternative assets. If I was right, I would add to this position over time. Weeks. Months. Building a bigger position on the daily timeframe when better entries appeared. This was not meant to be a quick trade. This was meant to compound.
By the end of yesterday, three of the four positions had hit a 2-to-1 risk-to-reward ratio.
Which meant I immediately moved my stop losses to breakeven on those three.
No loss was possible anymore on those trades. Even in the worst-case scenario, I would come out even. The trades had already protected themselves.
The Circle Closes
Five weeks in Limassol. Three weeks into my job. No apartment yet, but I will have one soon. Thirty-seven weeks of dreaming about a ship.
I came here with a vision: to become skilled enough at trading to afford that boat before I retire.
And now, sitting with the Lagoon 42 waiting for me at the marina, I have just placed my first real trade as a professional trader in my new life.
Three positions are protecting themselves. One is still running. The overall position is building. The dream is no longer just a picture on a screen.
It is a walk away.
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