Short Fiction – ‘Castro’


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Boats by shoreline in CastroStaying in Castro for a week. The town is emptier than I expect. San Martin, the main street is where the locals come to shop. But right now everything is closed, shuttered or padlocked. A department store sits nestled between a fishmonger and a grocer. Its huge glass façade and fluorescent lighting is a jarring sight as it casts an impersonal glow onto the grubby street. This is not the Castro I came to see. Next door, the hand painted sign of the fishmonger catches my eye. It lists the unusual fish they have for sale: Corvina; Merlusa; Peje Rey; and Congrio. Its artless letters painted without finesse or beauty – instead they the letters are robust and industrial. How long before this shop will give way to the big department stores from the capital?