Being a kid, no one minds him as he collects wine bottles around the neighborhood.

Every night, he carefully takes out a piece of paper and scribbles anything that comes to his mind. Sometimes a rhyme he learned from school. Sometimes a drawing. Most of the time, little stories his mom reads to him at night.

At dusk each day, he runs to the shore and places the bottle on the hollow of a huge rock. Then he hides and waits nearby, as the girl who collects seashells at sunset finds it.

He always goes home smiling, remembering her delight.