Violet light sprawling out of a forest of food vendors.

Every year this festival is predictably different.

We await the surprise of sameness and familiarity.

Trembling calm and a fixed view. Perhaps.

Steps rattled and echoed in the narrow cobblestone street.

Lovers stole kisses like kleptomaniacs-in-training.

At the square confessions-over-coffee abounded.

Some towns have all the luck and good lighting.

We are sitting in the middle of a moment’s pause.

We can’t see end to end.

There are floating point decimal flowers and marzipan.

At every corner peddlers offer a different color plastic elephant.

After a while we see a Tourist Information office and we take evasive action.

They were known as the best.

A baker.

A local doctor.

A painter

A metal worker.

They knew each other and met for savoury pastries every second Monday of every second month.

Drifting with electronic precision.

Thin ice indeed.

It was during the high heat of summer.

Nothing had to be frozen to be melting.

A haze created a halo over the entrance.