"What a strange dream.. a stork, a river, an old park, a voice, through the mist, the outline of a house becomes visible. The houses seem to push each other aside, they huddle together, they rock on small waves, and suddenly it looks as if the town is a small island, floating round in the space of an immeasurable ocean. When a ship is wrecked one night in the storm, the fishermen head out next morning with their nets in search of the corpses of the dead sailors in the breakers and not far from the water they are laid out on the beach and covered with mats." - Alexandr Sokurov