This lovely city I am now living in is in pretty good shape. But it is a large place, old and of tall buildings, richly colorful, and ornate. The sea nips at its toes. People and dogs pee everywhere. The sun beats down. Rain falls. And it never gets a minute of rest.
So decay haunts it.
The lushest and most perfectly preserved facade of some eight story building may, if you can just peep around the side, have a wall of concrete that looks like something untouched from the mezozoic era. Fastidiously maintained buildings may house apartments untouched for generations, with crumbling shutters hanging from its windows. The city doesn't look rundown because there is so incredibly much everywhere in fantastic condition, or new things, or old structures aged like fine wines with deep, impossible colors. Nevertheless you are never really out of site of something boarded up, falling apart, or wrapped in reparative scaffolding. The work of keeping all this stuff standing in good fettle is relentless, and a moment's inattention (geologically, or maybe historically) is enough to send anything here crumbling to the sidewalk.
I love it so much!
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