The sun was that nuance I have never found anywhere else but in southern France, by the sea. Oh, yes, there was this one time, one morning in the north of Denmark. But I guess those were the times. And places.
‘If we move the table to the east, towards the pear tree, that should be very nice I believe.’
A cormoran swept across the bay.
The sun was hot, and the wind smelled of salt.
‘Sounds reasonable, and the men from the caterers?’
‘They are on their way, not to worry.’
I suddenly realized we would have to move the sculpture, the Venus De Milo, to the other side of the gallery.
‘Oh, and Ophelia?’
I pointed at the thing.
‘Ah, yes, I have already made the arrangements to have it moved.’
The afternoon would most likely be very nice. The gardeners were busy with the floral arrangements.
The waves hit the quay relatively slowly.