43. Up early in the morning, long before anybody else, brought my watercolours, went out to the bridge. A thin layer of light in the atmosphere, complete silence, the birds still asleep, not even a fading wave on the water, just like a mirror. Fixed an image on the paper in a minute. That was it. Suddenly a soft wind came sweeping from the sea, dived into the bay, passed the bridge were I was sitting, the little boat yard and the whiteish mansion nearby, raised along the steep cliffs and shook for a second the red pinetops overlooking the islands, scattered all over this part of the Baltic. And with the wind came the waves and the mirror was gone. I jumped into the clear water, swam a little, went up again, lit my pipe and thought: "A new day".