The morning fog hides the full profile of the old city. But, as time goes by, the outlines of the majestic residents of the harbor gradually appear - the ships at the quay wall. While IMAGINATION works. The port lives on schedule - ships come and go, the old hulls of which have long dreamed of a dock, tugboats seethe, their whistles and sirens tear apart the pre-dawn darkness, as if helping the sun to break through the harbor haze and bring clarity to the magical place with a thousand reflections in the water mirror of the venerable harbor.