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  • As we walked through the small shipyard the mist lifted, and sunlight invaded the immensity of the sky, the sea. An old man was looking at the boats, smiled at us, the age-old camera fraternity: we smiled back, but he had eyes only for you. The light playing in your hair, a day of majesty, for pictures, for dreams, to remember and cherish.
    Further down the ancient path we admired the reeds, the sharp green of the wild baby orchids, the game of shadows and silver in the water. Small yachts were gliding on the Swale, white sails, a light foam festooning their hull. Above us a heron flew by, slow motion of the gigantic, prehistorical wings. You kissed me, triumphant. Down on the low land, the game of shadows and light was ever changing, a light haze, horses grazing…
    A small wall was running along the path. We thought of them: the multitude that had preceded us here, along this shore, for millennia. Our son was calling, you spoke, your voice floating in the breeze. He, our pride, studying, soon graduating, standing on his ground, his new challenges.
    You walked down to the water edge, so that, from his room, he could hear the waves kissing the small pebbles.
    I stood silent, in awe, a small pebble lost in the glory of the Creation.
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