#05 Between Gaze and Hallucination
The promenade was huge, full of people, sometimes intolerably crowded, sometimes not quite so crowded, but almost always full of people. They could clearly hear the sea, especially on rainless winter days. The waves relentlessly crashing a short distance away caused sounds with different intonations. Romantics would say that they were untuned harps that urged people to go home. Others felt that these were signs that encouraged them to take long walks that were frequently tough due to the cold arriving from distant and hidden horizons.
There were also animals on the promenade. Some were pets. Others were strays, without leash or master, unable even in the winter to find any shelter more welcoming than gaps between the rocks or in the ruins of some of the abandoned houses in the vicinity.
One of these stray dogs was well known to regular walkers. He would gaze at the night, trying to guess the sounds coming from the movement of the sea. Night after night. Always at the same spot. Indifferent to those passing by. To those who watched him.
