The day was very hot. For a few minutes waving banners and flags rustled, moved by a cool breeze coming from the sea and continues. Two Women are buried in beach chairs, abandoned with lazy satisfaction against soft spongy tissue that covers coarse blue and white colored cloth into a basin, facing the sun, which owns the pier from above, confused in the blinding reflection of myriads of small waves vanish and dematerialize the pillars and lampposts. Looking at them casually, from the shadows where I repaired, I understand that this is real physical pleasure evoked by browning, velvety smooth and firm the epidermis, from slight movements of the hair against his forehead and cheeks and the fleeting contact with the inside foot fine sand and warm.
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