While walking on the shores of Lake Leman, also called Lake Geneva, I came across this composition, probably left here by a child. The washed brick stones, oyster shells and bits of drift wood, suddenly brought my own childhood to the surface, when with my younger brothers and sisters, we used to collect and admire the treasures left on the banks after recent gales. This stirred up in me some strange and deep feelings, reminders of a blessed and too short period of life.
