When the THE WORLD vacation boat came to our shores this July, you wondered what people are traveling in these kinds of artifacts. And why. What's the advantage of being in a luxury hotel that floats in comparison to a luxury hotel that doesn't float?

Since your pocket is not in a position to compare the two experiences, perhaps this chronicle of David Foster Wallace gives you some hint: “When you’re in the water, you feel like in a crib, tenderly driven by someone; the foam of the window forms a sweet murmur, and the motorbike’s heartbeats appear to be the mother’s breath.” For that: in this work that the American writer wrote on behalf of Harper’s magazine, we are told the promise that this kind of maritime travel holds in depth: to return to your mother’s womb during a holiday, to a time when you had no worries, concerns, or hurries; to an amniotic life that you had nothing to worry about.

The word report is short to describe Foster Wallace's: It dissects the idea that you have of happiness in the United States, which maybe we also have pretty much interiorized here, showing how much a society that everything has to be perfect can be unsustainable. Written in sarcastic style, the long standing notes that the author crosses everywhere give him a hypertext aspect; the important thing is not to read from the beginning to the end, but to read by taking mouths from here and there. The bonus for this boat is 15 euros. A luxury of good taste.