hippospit

The Mercado of Tarragona

A clock hangs above the door of the Mercado

And as the hour strikes, the jubilee begins.

Tiny doors open, and cabezudos glide in a circle:

Their exaggerated heads and frozen smiles consume the attention of all below.

A thin soundtrack plays in the background as children dance, uninhibited and ecstatic

To the rhythm of the cuckoo clock.

For a moment, all is synchronized.

No mistakes, no burdens. Just lightness and fantasy.

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