Walking along this white sand nestled between the hills that pierce the sea conveys tranquility.
Without the sometimes uncomfortable confusion of the main beaches on this coastline.
Here, the waters are crystal clear and life has its own rhythm of small places by the sea. Colorful trawlers come and go.
Men launch their small wooden boats into the sea, rowing and rowing as far as only they know where the shoals are, abundant in these waters.
On land, the fish dries under the torrid sun, ready to be transformed into delicacy .
The casuarina trees line up here and there, in that shadow that only they know how to project from the top of their sandy feet.
Below them, small shipyards hammer out the skeletons of traditional vessels that soon take on shape and stories of sea.
Other boats – old, rusty, ghosts – remain stranded in Caota bay.