I lived six months in Espinho, over one winter. It’s a dull enough city in winter, ugly even, that only lightens up on Mondays when there’s the weekly market. In summer it’s more lively, because there’s a beautiful stretch of beach, or actually two.
On sunny winter days I sometimes went for a walk on the more distant beach. There was only the odd fisherman there, and seagulls, gaivotas. The receding high tide left behind pools in-between black rocks, revealing mussels, tiny, tiny pebbles and pieces of seashells, smoothed by the waves, bathing in sunlight and crystal clear waters.
One of these days I wanna go back there.
Underwater in Espinho, 2009.