These dilapidated boats are clearly inhabited, sometimes permanently, sometimes overnight. They are ghosts of the ships they once were. A tea light burns in the cabin, to keep warm. Everyone ignores them, walks right past them, except the people from the municipality. All boats have a regulation paper taped to the skin, in a rainproof plastic folder. Evacuation is coming. Resistance is futile. Before long, there will be nothing left except a frayed rope on the quay wall.