Essaouira, Scotland

I must have been on that beach for a couple of hours.

There was a rough sea, a big ocean, pushing a fine mist toward land, but then, once it reached the beach, the mist calmed down and disappeared. It was like being suspended: even the wind helped, in fact.

Essaouira, to my right, was also hidden by fog: you could see the blurred outlines of fishing boats pulled up on dry land on the harbor pier.

There was almost no noise, or perhaps, rather, the ocean and wind drowned it out. Every now and then, a couple of young people's metal detector would beep repeatedly. When it started beeping non-stop, they began digging in the sand on the shore with their hands. They moved the sand, probing with the metal detector's disc: it beeped, but they didn't seem to find anything. A remarkable series of false positives.