knitting, quiet, shovel

From a cafe table, I watch in the open window of a cool, dark room, a woman knitting shadows.

The fiesta of Santa Teckla (the patron saint of Sitges) is over for a year. The streets are quiet, the fireworks extinguished, the processions finished, the tin drums put away in cuboards and cellars. The huge figures of the King and Queen and their companions are returned to their places in the town hall. It was fun while it lasted. The quiet is fun too.

After the rain of two days ago the water which poured down the streets in torrents flowed under the road and the pavement of the promenade through a culvert on to the beach where it cut a deeper channel. So deep that a small lake was formed. Today a mechanical shovel arrives and restores the status quo. When it has finished, it advances to the edge of the sea, dips its scoop into the water, as though taking a drink, lifts some water and empties it. After repeating the process, the scoop is judged clean and the machine leaves the beach.