There was, there was not, there once was a city and a “Dead Sea”. You go and go. You go far or near, and you reach the plaster factory. Green and chestnut colored, two small unbelievably beautiful ponds shine in the distance; right under the nose of the factory. - It could have been a resort; says one of my friends. - If you photograph it, they come and snatch it from you and make it theirs; says a man floating on the calm water who shares my concern. They come to the “Dead Sea” to exercise and to swim. There are frequent visitors and one- timers. People with health ailments come; people for whom going to a real sea is just a dream. People come in their expensive cars. It’s a good-natured, cozy atmosphere. People who change their clothes behind bushes, rocks and car doors, kids crawling around, business plans, hands searching for clay on the pond bottom or in nearby holes. There is another little pond from which pure salt water flows. They say it’s especially good for gargling. But no one knows where the mystical water comes from. - Don’t those people drafting business plans know about tailings dams?, says another friend, throwing cold water on my head. Three apples fell from heaven - One for the person floating on the pond’s surface, one for the person diving into the water, and one for the person who solves the riddle.