Ivan has kept the lighthouse for over thirty lonely years, its staircase is filled with old novels.

"...i've kept that lighthouse for over thirty years" he grunts gnashing his teeth, "now the sky doesn't storm, the sea doesn't roar, the gulls aren't flying, the grass is too green, the crabs aren't dying and nor am i."
he pauses, looks to his boots and sighs, then continues a touch more cheerfully "but at least i'm old, have a beard and hook for a hand.

woman and child.

...He sat there for hours, catching the blizzard in his beard. He shook, shivered, snorted and bounced his numb legs. But when he caught first glance of the two walking by him, a whirling warmth lined his stomach and thawed out his insides. He smiled as if the boy was his own.