The mason gets off the boat. He walks toward the old bridge with a red pebble held tightly in his hand. The sea port is still asleep in this sunny morning. He walks quietly through the alley without courage to look up at the blue frame windows. She must be still sleeping. In a protective shade, the sun light won’t disturb her. The smell of the ocean calms her. He remembers her face with her eyes closed. But he has to go. He can only slide the red pebble in the fissure of that black rock under the bridge to let her know he has once visited her.

**The photo of Pontevedra, Spain.