I came up with a great idea, a painting of gentle blue flooded seascapes from the highest place on the island with a bright moon in the centre. I didn't quite realize that as for the highest point in the wide open sea, the wind conditions would be unbearable, and also, that the moon would rise in the middle of the darkest night. But it is the last day here. I won't leave with nothing even if I have to fly off the wind or be bitten by a snake (also quite likely). I hid behind a low stone wall with a little tree. The loud wind was blowing all around. With stones from the wall I weighed down my hiding spot and could begin.
The sky was fading. A blackening dark blue cove washed over the coastline of small villages, betrayed only by a few lights. The mountain ridges hugged them tightly. But then they disappeared in the dark and I disappeared with them.
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