One day I saw the ice as it formed. I was in the cabin and looked out of oblivion '. That evening he got up a light wind from the north by the Arctic Ocean. I was watching some seagulls resting on the mooring poles with my head in the direction of the wind, as always. Meanwhile, the first ripples caused by wind began to disappear here and there '. Moments later, the water seemed covered with a layer of oil. Only later I realized that what I saw was the first film of ice, as thin as gauze, which was forming on the water dark, and the membrane was to pave the waves. The next morning when we woke up, the ice was thick enough to hold a swallow of the sea that was next to the trembling Posar Rustica.
(Bjorn Larsson, L'arte di vivere )
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