THE STORIES OF THE SEA, AMIDST OXYMORONS AND IMPERFECT BEAUTY
The premises, a former workshop, are a few steps away from the main square. Outside there is a large dining deck to enjoy the warm summer evenings. The ground floor still retains traces of the passage of the sea on the once-vivid-blue wooden surfaces. However, these traces are honoured and magnified as if they were an ode to imperfect beauty. Large lamps and ceilings like clouds hang as if they were suspended in the ether, while schools of fish dive in gold to freeze an oxymoron. At the first floor there float the stories of fishermen who turned their working tools into works of art as a symbol of their respect for the sea, the same sea that brings back old-time stories in a bottle.