The boy had a bicycle. Not very special. His father was one of those dock workers. He had been told terrible stories that he had heard from sailors and captains. Incredible stories. True myths. For storms and huge waves, which like dragons opened their gigantic mouths to swallow the ships. For ports that opened their arms to sailors and offered everyone what they wanted. For rare items that would complete a quirky collection. For foods and aromas of the ports of the world. For girls who dreamed that one day a sailor will truly love them and take them with him to a distant land. For churches of every religion, for cafes, for large suspension bridges and shopping streets. For that mother who was looking after her own son, who had gone missing many years ago and didn't know if he was alive or dead. For trees laden with fruits of all kinds, that challenged you to taste them even if you were to miss Heaven forever...

He saw a girl running with imaginary skates on her feet...