The sky is turning grey, no one on the beach, silent boats fill the horizon. I wear a summer dress, my wavy hair smells of sand, and my bag is full of shells and pumice stones. There is a house, an abandoned one, where only sky and wind have access; the roof fell down, and a tree is growing where the bedroom was. I would like to walk close to it, and to take better photos, but the barbed wire does not allow me. A white horse seems to watch the house with his dark and nostalgic eyes. When I step towards him, he looks at the camera and asks for a caress. I would ask him to bring me to the hill, and wait together for the rain to sing among the trees.