La Fontelina, in the quiet hour. Empty striped chairs, the rocks falling to the sea, the whole place holding its breath between swims. This is where you'd come back to, salt still on your skin, with nothing left to do but sit. Of the thousands of frames from that month, the ones from this little beach club kept rising to the top. There's a stillness here you don't find often — the feeling of a perfect day pausing, just for a moment, to let you catch up to it.