<https://s.mj.run/f2su2mqU6KA> Film Still, In the most crowded tavern of the harbor, where the heroes and heroines of seafaring novels come to life again every morning, there sat the old, cunning sailor, picking up seashells and sea snails in his huge long beard reaching to the ground, as if he had decorated the coastal waste with his own features. His cap, pushed to one side, sat on his head as if some rogue had pushed it jokingly, perhaps so as not to distract him from the next big adventure. Through the wrinkles of his face flashed seafaring tales that would have made even the most hardened pirates spread their sides with laughter. Behind his eyes, the appearance of shore fun and shrewd bargaining between ships was equally detectable, as if he was always wondering how to outwit fate's next trap with a good-humoured joke. His every movement, every sighing step, evoked the legendary traditions of the seafaring world, as if he himself were a character in a maritime novel, where humor and wisdom should never be separated like seashells from seaweed. vintage monochrome movie style, cinematic lighting  --ar 3:4