the place

it is twilight. the cove is sinking with its colours into the evening mists. the sea is creeping very gently over the sand, that shines a little with the wet marks that the retreating tide has left.

the rocks, the hills, the town, rise behind the grey mysterious floor that stretches without limit into infinite distance in black walls sharply outlined against the night blue of the sky.

there is only one star. some sheep are crying in a fold.

a cold wind passes like a thief over the sand. the sea creeps back relentlessly, ominously . . . eternally.