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Pedestrians, no more than central gauzes of color, skewered by urbane lines leading to certain clear points. Above those craning heads— swatches of cloud, bristling gaping profiles shaped by ulterior winds. Under walker’s feet superficial cobblestones— almost damp— beneath that bright sky. To one side— block-like, barren a wall, shadow-casting— windowed— one with shutters— and doored— that darkly open, empty. Above, intruding against sky and street, the striated domes of a cathedral— too near to be monumental but awkwardly delicate— a skeletal white against blue.
Lastly, beside an aging tree, to complete and balance shape and shade, a bell tower, truly alien to the domes, gray-blank, un-filigreed in the sun, topped by a needle cross above passing faces, apart of the street, apiece with the dark, against cloud-white in the contrast of buildings.