Long shadows and the residual cool of the stonework, in the stillness of early morning. At the postern gate.
The river entrance to the Ville Close.
Within, artists and artisans set out their wares. With which to tempt the milling sightseers. Soon to arrive.
As yet the close set mediaeval streets are deserted. Save for a few stray delivery vans. Which squeeze incongruously through the double archways of the main gate. Built to deter a charge of mounted knights.
Racks of temptations emerge onto the pavements, as street doors swing back.
Above the shops, window shutters open to welcome the new day.
And the Breton and city flags flutter over the rooftops.
To the north, of the walled city, lie the rough stone quays of the commercial harbour.
To the south, the pontoons of the port de plaisance.
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