It was such an intimate square that I hesitated before turning into it.
It was full of the midday silence broken only by a thin trickle of water
from the two water spouts.
On a bench facing the fountain sat three pretty teenaged girls dressed in white.
They appeared quite suddenly as I was parking Louise where she wouldn't topple over
on the slope and cobbles.
While I was busy with the prerequisites for exploring the village: unzipping the tank bag for my iPad, fountain diary, glass vial, unzipping another pouch for sun cream, peeling off my jacket and running a thin cable lock through the sleeve and fastening it to the handle bars, pulling off my boots and socks and stuffing them under my jacket, slapping on my plimsoles, unrolling my water bottle from its waterproof trousers insulation, stretching my hat into a recognizable shape, they sat like stone.
The smell of fresh fruity shampoo hummed in the air above their heads.
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