Two windows in a Spanish street behind which memories must lurk. On the pavement, what I take for a broken fragment of seashell turns out to be a flattened piece of chewing gum bearing the ridged imprint of the sole of a shoe.
A snatched piece of conversation as a couple pass me in the street. "If she wants to do it for social reasons, she's doing for the wrong reasons", says the man. There is a disturbing didactic note in his voice which makes me sympathise with her, whoever she might be.