Abstract: Since the morning the horses were bothered by the voices at the square. The breath coming out of their nostrils was sharp, their lips were smackering and they jolted until they felt comfortable. The throatlatches forced them to stay on the same spot sometimes lifting their front and some others their back legs. The coachman, who understood their situation, took them by the reins, brought them close to him, spoke to them, stroke one of them, kissed the other. But he did not discriminate one from another. He turned back to help workers finish their job more quickly. They unloaded the barrels with the salted fish, but there were still some merchandise left loaded.
The bees soon smelled the fish and wine and flew in circles like crazy trying to find a crack. The horses cottoned on to the situation and were close to break loose of their reins.
Across the warehouse, in the little bistro, the sun was stroking the spring hats from early on, seeking for the green winter faces. The waiter slung from the iron bar with a single leap in order to quickly release the tent and let its shade on the tables. People felt dizzy by the coffee smell, while groups of friends sunk into conversations enjoying the stroll at the square. Young girls were hidden under their umbrellas, in colorful dresses, bodies tightened in corsets, bosoms lifted and flaunted ready to attract men stares. Laughters, small talks, gestures and bows, compliments’ exchange; people came and left with slow, rigid steps and rand once more strolled from the one square’s side to the other.