We walked out around the rocks to the place where the belugas sing.

When we got back, the setting sun made wild roses glow.

I took so many photos of the sunset, each one better than the last, none of them real.

The only real sunset was the stained-glass one I saw upon the sky, but it is gone.

The sunset will return next summer, when we do.

Goodbye, water.

Goodbye, mountains.

Goodbye, sky.

Goodbye, Baie-Sainte-Marguerite.

See you next year.