Elara had traveled to a small island off the coast of Galway, where she found an old abandoned lighthouse converted into a temporary art museum. She had been invited to exhibit one of her paintings in a group exhibition of young artists.

The afternoon was covered in a thick fog, and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks gave the place an almost unreal feel. As she arranged her work in one of the lighthouse's rooms, she heard someone playing a soft melody on an old, out-of-tune piano downstairs, installed as part of the exhibition.

Curious, she went down the stone stairs and saw him: a foreign guy, with a notebook full of improvised scores, playing with a mixture of clumsiness and passion. He didn't seem like a professional pianist, more like someone seeking to let off steam through music.

Elara, who rarely initiated conversations, dared to speak.

“It’s not common to hear someone play here… it sounds different, as if the sea were accompanying you.”