Not many details, just what is needed when off the boat, the small house looks like it can handle a lot of wind. I take out my brushes, watercolor and paper
There is a quiet feel to it, the mix of granite stones, wood and simple metal sheet roofs - Even bits from boats thrown in, a bench, and holders for the yarn and tools used on the sea.
The harbor is far out on the end of a long bridge. In the village, that is not much more than a line of houses, many of them formed mainly by their huge traditional fish smoking chimneys
The sand here is beautiful but so incredible fine it seems to get in anywhere... in the stove, the camera, the phone, the watercolors.
The beach is empty and small riddles of sand forms around a few stones in the wind. The beach is famous. "The finest sand in the world" the locals claim.
Walked between the small shacks build more or less together, my backpack telling I was not a local. Not one of the fishermen who owned these shacks, but there were nobody listening
Walking across the beach I come to some red, what look like rocks. There shouldn't be rocks here. "They are not rocks" The lady tells me "more a kind of red clay"