The ripples of water in the sea, the constant flow of water, the leaves of grass in the stream, swaying with the current, the eternal motions of water, and the sunshine -- the light and shadows, tiny bits of them, making patterns, going in the direction of the flow -- and it was quiet. The little dance of the light, ever so bright light on the sea bottom, the shape of rocks, the houses on the shores, the cars come and go, the blue ocean, the periwinkles moving so slowly. Far away, sounds of birds, people, the cars. There is the world of knotted wracks with air-bladders and periwinkles, moving ever so slowly, their antennas, mouths, and mantles on the rocks, under-water world of them and the sunshine, and the water flow. The water is blue, navy blue, here and beyond there, the deep blue, the shores are away and the cars go by. Some paddle the canoes, others ride on motorboats. The splash of water, the trailing waves, the people on the boats, holidays.
There are sections that are not so as rich as the other in the town. More items are displayed in the yard in such cases. Motorbikes are among those items but never saw any riding. Some houses are abandoned, the paintings of the wall peeling off. Or maybe they are for the summer. The people seem to gather at certain places, on the certain beaches, a few of which are pretty crowded. Many carry their dogs along. More often than not, rather big ones. A group of people were sunbathing, it was that warm. There are many rabbit shaped ornaments on their doors. They decorate the houses nicely, not like anywhere else in the world. The fisher town, though, does look English, quite nice of the sort. People are, loading items on the cars, or unloading them.
The turf, tall rush thickets, the clean water, the birds, Canada geese -- I went to greet with the Canada geese and they flew away when I chased them with my camera. The burgeoning fluffy buds of the willow trees. The fresh green turf, ever so quiet, the soccer goals.
