a cold wind passes through the branches of low trees, going to the horizon of the sea blurred by fog. a couple of birds are enveloped in serenity, taking in each new wave and fourteen birds are circling above us, watching from above the ships and the waves crashing on the gray rocks. in my hands are small gray stones that resemble a pale moon and a gray sky, and several shells, of different sizes and shades, which are covered with particles of cold, wet sand. i wander along the seashore, watching your footprints that you leave on the sand and examining the shells under my feet in the hope of finding one that will repeat the shade of your eyes. looking into the distance, i wonder: will this day remember our silhouettes? will the wind carry my words away? the birds, the sea, will they understand who fills my thoughts? and will you be able to stay with me and meet eyes in the next life? your locks of hair are scattered in the wind, and your gaze is lowered down in search of a white stone, among a pile of gray ones, which will make it possible to feel peace inside your chest. but not a single stone from this beach will make me feel the peace that i feel while i hold your hand in my hand, while you wander in my thoughts, while my heart beats at the same pace as yours. this stone doesn’t make a bit of sense while you’re next to me, and it also doesn’t make sense when you’re not around. and while we are alone on this beach, letting the north wind pass through our fingers and collecting stones and shells in our hands, i would like to tell you that my peace is you.