<https://s.mj.run/WZWncIfafRU> Film Still, In the noisiest tavern of the port, where the salty sea breezes and the laughter dance eternally, there sat the old, wily sea captain, picking up sea shells and sea snails in his huge long beard reaching to the ground, as if the coastal waste had advanced to the great poet of sailors. His hat, pushed aside, sat on his head as if it had been the victim of some cunning trick of fate, but he just smiled, as if he had long ago given up trying to push it back to where it really belonged. Sea adventures that even the most daring of pirates would only stare at from afar, like a blurred seascape, darted through the wrinkles of his face. Behind his eyes, the dawn songs of the coastal taverns and the bargains and bargains between the ships were both surreptitiously marching on, as if he was always wondering how to get out of the next sea battle with a good deal of laughter and a less good deal of rum. His every movement, every sighing step, evoked the legendary traditions of the seafaring world, as if he himself were a living sea legend, where humor and wisdom live in eternal friendship, like sea shells with seaweed. vintage monochrome movie style, cinematic lighting  --ar 16:9