Above the general noise and hubbub on a crowded beach in Spain can be heard the shouts of a drinks vendor trying to sell his wares to the sunbathers on the ivory white sand …
‘¡Agua Cerveza Coca-Cola!’ dragged her out of her dream.
A view of the aforementioned beach, here right in the centre of town, Postiguet beach …
The words of an anthem-like song surge from a sound system on a nearby stage …
La manta al coll
i el cabasset,
mos n’anirem
al Postiguet …
Later, much later, on a quieter day, we find Eden musing on ‘su entorno’, her surroundings …
I look at the acquiescent wavy line between liquid and solid, where the sea and the shore meet, constantly changing in that mesmerizing way, today slowly and tranquilly ebbing and flowing. I step across, to the fluid, to wet my feet. I stand in the few inches of seawater that gently, languorously laps around my feet. How at home I feel here, in my Alicante idyll. The purling of the waves. The cries of seagulls. Everything seems so calm and serene.