I live in a small town called Antelopeia. People here make their living as fishermen, they are simple, lively and I must say pretentious. Antelopeia has grown and the people come from all over the world to live here, making the heart of the small town crowded with strangers. No one knows the city anymore. In the dunes among the long grasses and low dry windwrought trees I sit in silence to hear the seagulls call. I lose myself. Antelopeia knows the highest biodiversity of mosses of the whole West Coast. And nobody knows.