The bearded old man.
Brushes the wall with his fingers.
Stares rapturously at the church.
A Zorba like figure, old with a big grey beard, vigorous and loud, wanders the village, accosting young people to speak to them of love. "Amore, amore!", he declares, in the soft evening light. Afterwards is seen walking down the lane brushing his fingers along the walls stopping now and again as if listening to the stones. Later, returning from the restaurant, we find him squatting on a bench, one leg up, staring up at the church across the plaza, smiling at something only he can see.