The plow of the centuries does not spare places. In what is now a leisure space, the boards of the houses of merchants and fishermen, and the walls of a fort have already been erected. A place that was successively named after a charitable association, a murdered king, and a republican revolutionary. It managed to be a square, a soccer field, a parking lot and so much more. The enclosure that reaches our days is the same: indeed, we are talking about a single multifaceted existence made possible by the improbabilities that give life to each of the stones and corners of this city.
In the place where the thud of the Marítimo games echoed, there were also the black dresses of an improvised market (of unconventional tradition). Once a year, the Christmas fair brought the electronic chime of the carrousel ride – welcomed in an area expanded with each new purpose. A place for arrivals and departures, and hurried crossings and useless pauses. The surviving garden is now a field of delays, a spot of surrender to the sea waves, the anchorage of lines that lead us to the top, where another Funchal whispers to us.