The waves crashed against the rocks, seeming to moan with each impact.
The adamastor monster seemed to want to come out of the water and roar out of a fairy tale we learned to listen to at night by the fireplace.
To hut this man now in his middle age decided to go back to his ancestors.
The wood in this cabin was made of oak and creaked like it had come to life.
This man who was a child here spent his entire childhood with his poor fisherman grandparents who lived by the sea in a sunny hut on the hill.
His only childhood companions were the seagulls and the fish he tried to catch with a fine line and a bamboo pole.
His grandparents were a certain age, his grandfather with his long white beard and wide eyebrows looked like trails of snow in the folds of his face.
His face told stories of the sea and a lifetime with each look he gave the longing sea.
Her grandmother spent her days sewing the nets that were so old they had huge rips that looked like huge pits from which even the biggest fish could climb.
He, who was a child, returned to the hut, that hut that only kept the half-broken portraits and about to fall nailed with thin nails made by his grandfather.
At this moment a storm hits the lightning hill, a boat adrift in the distance looked something ghostly with the moon above and the lightning falling towards the icy waters of the sea.
Suddenly, thunder and lightning fell and the roar was so loud that the painting with my grandfather's photograph fell to the ground and shattered, his memory was now destroyed.
He looked at the sea and asked "Are you grandpa?"
"Where are you?" he said.
He exclaimed once more and sighed that his grandfather is missing him so much, but he decided to go back to building that cabin the sea and his grandfather's legacy.
the storm passed now as in childhood seagulls and fish were his company.
He looked to the sky and said.
"Now, grandfather, I'm going to build my hut."