The early stop at Chia is where Bernardu fishes dream behind a wooden walkway. The quiet bay in the morning sun rests idle before rowing boats waiting along the water side. A stretch of stones may betray its other day as a salt plant, now drowned and abandoned. Who knows but the fishermen staring in the distance? Shouldn’t I have checked it out by asking them? Guess I was also still sleepy in the early morning of my nascent life as a photo reporter.