Rich golds and ochres bleed into sea faded pigments, on the hulls of Camaret's former crayfish fleet. Driven onto a lee shore, of catches depleted to the point of extinction, they form a sculptural set piece. Their colours toning pleasingly with the rose pink masonry, of Vauban's square set tower, and the creamy stonework of the squat Chapelle de Notre Dame.
Whilst, at the head of the harbour, old craft gain new life. Their paintwork fresh, their varnish bright.
Cottages, with pastel washed walls, climb away up a green clad hillside.
Clustered around winding cobbled backstreets. Built for man and horse, before the age of the car.
Clinging, as best they can, to the contours of the slope. Seeking out the easiest gradients, along which to ascend.
With height, the housing thins. Trees and shrubs crowd in.
Until the open cliff top is revealed. Robed with wildflower meadows. In motion to the rhythm of the tireless breeze. Yellow, white pink and green heads nod and jig before the blue sea and sky. To the tune of the sibilant waves, marching onto the shoreline below.
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