He had returned to the shore.
He arrived at a small fishing village of about a hundred people.
Located on a flat plane at the foot of the mountains along the Bay Shore, these houses were all brick and stone structures with red-tiled spires and vertical wooden planks on the external walls. All the houses shared a uniform style; even though the village was not large, it was quite a pleasant environment.
There was no concept of a dock here.
Instead, the beach was lined with wooden stakes wrapped with hemp ropes, where fishermen's small boats were moored—scattered around twenty or thirty of them, some of which were quite dilapidated.
The name of this small town was too long, Liszt heard it once and lost any interest in remembering it.
