Early Sunday Los Abrigos

Slowly coming to life. A man and woman, walk easily together, talking, intense. In the square by the church, two small boys ride scooters, as their father reads the paper. In the harbour, a fisherman cheerfully starts the engine on his small boat, singing to himself and chatting to the old man standing on the quayside. Men fish off the rocks, and a blonde haired man and his little boy fish from the jetty, just behind the harbour. In the sky, just a few cotton buds of cloud, dotted here and there.

Voices of children inside seep through shutters to windows which have not yet been opened. An older woman, in loose dress and sandals, hoses her garden, then pulls the hose across the street to water the plants in the verge above the harbour. A little boy out on a balcony with his mother waggles his fingers at me. People walk dogs. A man in a wheelchair sits outside his house. A cafe owner wipes tables.

The church in the square is locked tight. Thankfulness doesn't need to be locked within four walls. Everybody prays in their own way.