At my favourite café, a quartet sits on the table next to mine and gossips over coffee. Dressed in the many shades of white and blue, they balance a muffin, cigarettes and coffee with effortless grace. I don’t see them bite, but the muffins disappear little by little. I brush the crumbs collected around me, hoping that no one has noticed.
As the day grows, so do the crowds. Gladiator sandals – in brown, white and purple – fill up the square . I make a mental note to hunt for a pair of my own when the sharp click of a high heel catches my attention. I watch in awe as it floats past me; I might have a better shot at solving pages and pages of Math than of I do of managing heels like those.
The day has been hot but now a soft breeze runs through the street. And on cue, waves of bright scarves begin to flutter around dainty shoulders. And just as gracefully, a girl rides by on a cycle. Her short black hair is spiked and her scarf dress balloons up every time the breeze hits her. She doesn’t seem to care; she takes on the breeze like a child in an open field.
It’s not just the women who exude style here: a Bob Dylan look-alike appears suddenly from one of the pastel buildings. He wears a red shirt, black trousers and a tilted black hat over his white hair. He stops to buy an ice-cream before continuing on his way, probably looking for answers in the wind.
The summer rises in these colours. The sun beats down in bright patterns. Soon the city will filter out for a few months by the coast, but these shapes and shades will remain, bouncing off the walls and stones, along the cafes.
(cross-posted at Matador )