Poles, Tavira

0744 poles tavira.jpg

Roughly six-thirty in the morning, the shadows are long and everyone else is asleep. The temperature is already in the mid-twenties and a small herd of cows stand near sparsely leafed trees waiting for good shade to fall.

A short circular walk past barren fields via a cluster of houses at the far end; a distraction too vague to propose to a group intent on lying under parasols next to the sea. In any case we drove along here yesterday and I am simply recapping on foot.

Although some of the land is furrowed and broken only plots close to the houses seem to be planted. There is a large plantation of fenced-in orange trees. Small walls frame track-like driveways to farmhouses that are probably now used as villas, such as where we are staying.

A nucleus of houses sits tightly against the road forcing it into a ninety degree turn, small and whitewashed they each have a different skirting of ceramic tiles which turn out to be less intriguing than when glimpsed from a car. Shutters are closed. Dust has been kicked up against an untiled house lending it a brown to white gradient. At this hour two dogs easily sense me and in alternating calls they mark the five minutes it takes to walk by.

On my way back our host drives past, later when he asks me if I took any good pictures I don’t go into detail but hope so. His villa echoes the imagery of the magazines in the living room and on the terrace, it seems removed from this stretch of road between two villages.


About pistosophy

Architect with camera
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