Beyond was the sea. A faint clatter of stones. It was dark. The clatter became a hammer: the pony racing along struck sparks gainst the pebbles. From the low twisted branches of a pine tree my brother looked at the clear-cut shadow of the girl cross the beach. From the black sea rose a wave with a faint crest, it curled higher, advanced all white, broke and grazed the shadow of the horse and girl racing at full speed; Cosimo on the pine tree found his face wet with salty spray.

- Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees