At the place where pine trees grew to the water's edge, Clara slid down the rocks to a small beach. The water lapping against the beach was so clear that she could see jewel-like stones on the bottom. Away from the shore, the water was dark blue.
She took of her shoes and socks, watched the clear water rippling over the pebbles, remembered the words of the man with silver-white hair: "I see mica glittering in the sand, dragonflies mating in the air above the water, the sun rising on the hills far across the lake.