The Curved Window

Our Spanish room was simple,  

a bit dusty, with two narrow beds, 

a wash basin, a small table

and a shared toilet in the passage.

Normality in Spain back then.

But it was our first Spanish room

and we were happy!

The owner was nice,

‘doux, comme le sucre’

as my friend told him.

But he spoke no French.

We shopped in the corner shop with

the curved window

which became our landmark

to find our way back home

through the labyrinth of small streets.

At night we explored them

enjoying the clubs and cafes and bars

and the company of lively people.

Then we found our window

and made our way home.

Home to a locked door that

no amount of banging or shouting 

would cause to open.

A passer-by showed us the system.

He clapped his hands loudly

and a man appeared with a big bunch of keys,

enough to fit the locks of several streets.

Normality when Franco reigned.

He let us in with a smile.

He was ‘doux, comme le sucre’

my friend told him,

but he didn’t understand.

Forty years later we found the street.

Our landmark, the curved shop window 

showed us the way.

It was all still there, though only in facade,

waiting for reconstruction or demolition.

The facade of a memory that

is still there and remains

‘doux, comme le sucre’

and we understand.

A moment in history.

It’s all gone now.

https://4fphistoriclandmarks.blogspot.com/2024/05/lynn-white.html