I got to the Gulf but the sad mood with thoughts. Among the rugged rocks, the lakes kept the sea leaving some critters too slow to follow. Also some shells could be seen shrunken and emaciated at being left dry, in the midst of them, shelled, without shelter, elaborate, the umbrella lay sick call impropriety living jellyfish. Why have been so horrible to name one so charming? I never set my attention on those castaways who are often on the beach. The to which I refer was small, the size of my hand, but extremely beautiful and soft and light shades, his white opal with a transparent purple dye that was a crown. The breeze had turned: the crown of lilac hair floated over, and the delicate umbrella (ie your body), found below, are brushed with the rock. Very poor bruised, wounded, had torn part of his fine hair, that is, what constitutes its organs of respiration, absorption, and even procreation. And that got out of hand blob the sun of Provence, rough waking, and in those rougher time because of the dryness of the mistral that never stopped blowing. Double ordeal that tore at the transparent creature. Living in an area contact caressed by the sea, not the unfortunate umbrella is covered with a tough skin, like us, land animals, so that you receive blows to the living.

Near his lean lake had filled other gaps and communicated with the sea: salvation was two steps. But to her that only moves with the help of her undulating hair, these two steps were an insurmountable barrier. Exposed to the scorching rays of that sun, was to believe that he would soon be dissolved, absorbed, evaporated.