Puerto del RosarioI awoke late the next day. It was Sunday and the neighbourhood was quiet. I opened the bedroom blind to find cloud obliterating the normally garish sunlight.
The cloud thickened and by lunchtime it was raining, not heavily, but enough to keep me indoors. My mood mirrored the weather and I succumbed to an attack of the doldrums. I skulked around the apartment like a caged animal, picturing my lonely life in a restored ruin, mistress of troubled memories. I was bored, tender and disturbed by turns. My grief had been unleashed and looked set to tramp about inside me with a will of its own. My doubts returned. I was taking on too much. I had no right to restore that ruin and should never have bought it. What would I do with myself when I had? I would be doomed to rattle arou
