It’s about sailing...
Hearing the call of the sea, a man left.
The white house stood still on the shore, in the sand, facing the winds.
He had a large pile of wood stored near the southern wall of the house. They were bleached by the sun and rubbed by the sand blown by the wind, and he was clinging to some pieces to burn. But he knew, that the sea would bring some more.
In the cold nights, he stood in the big armchair in front of the fire, reading. While reading he looked up to hear the northwest wind and the waves smashing the shore. Sometimes he turns down the lamp and stretched out on the carpet, on the wood floor and watch the contour color that sea salt and sand gave to the flames. - Hemingway