In the morning, when the Proton Bionda campsite was still deep in slumber, I walked along the beach and watched the sea. The morning light in the east gradually rose over the water, light waves glided over the sandy beach with majestic grace. Everything was quiet, a seagull complained from the left about something high in the sky, only a baker's cart was already fetching rolls and bread for hotels in the city. The light in the morning is unique, very light and yet fresh. Every minute becomes bluer, brighter, and the waves stronger. The day is dawning. Off to breakfast.