As pavement seated gargoyles fear the cave of need; a place of want and sloth; a fountain is where people gather.
People meet, sit and soak up the sun, and curse, sleep and dream. At a simple piano a young lady sits and plays a most beautiful sound, delicate yet aged with the weight of memories.
Dragons, griffins, turrets with portholes, oversee cartwheels and daisies, beer and baguettes; and children throw coins in the fountain, while scarred stricken adults ask “a little change please sir?”. And the sun burns my skin as it did in Mount’s Bay, another, and another, most significant day…