Even viewed from a distance, the harborfront tests the capacities of peripheral vision, tall masts and rigging far off to the right, and in front of us, here, clumsy, rectangular structures painted white with enormous, clear windows that darken in the afternoons.
The light here is blue, like the water, like the eyes of middle-aged tourists who occasionally study our movements. My attention is drawn to a parking lot next to the largest of the structures, where gulls disperse and enclose the comings and goings of visitors like water adapting itself to the spill of large rocks. A breeze seems to lift them, shaving off feathers of white from their wings. It’s a remarkable sight.