There was a beach with fishermen’s boats and little houses a little dilapidated,
but still looking merry with their pastel colours.
There were cats sleeping among the nets with the lazy elegance which only cats have.
And there was an old man who painted on rocks little naive scenes with graceful colours.
Occasionally he sold them to passers-by.
For reasons I don’t know he offered me this one and refused my money.
With a silent wise smile.

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