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Late afternoon on the rocks of the Isle of Beauty. The silver sea glimmers under the fading light. Our last swim was barely an hour ago and I can still taste the salt on my skin. The waves are subsiding little by little, and the moon, discreet, is rising in the sky as the red sun sets. On the way home, the scent of the fig trees perfumes the early evening and the fresh, clear sea air already signals the wistfulness of the end of summer.