About the Square

Once, in this place, Clavical Square, people spoke and sang, and wrote poems and stories, and talked of Michelangelo. But all that changed on the night after the New Year Celebrations for the year of the Goat. The Chinese poet and thinker, Luo Jie, drank a glass of Malaga wine, and strolled out along the strangely sun-drenched coast. He was pondering the words of Ibn Gavirol, As long as a word remains unspoken, you are its master; once you utter it, you are its slave. In the distance he could hear the strains of the effervescent middle-eastern ska band, Kiv Yahol, rolling out the notes of their wordless hit Sogni D’Oro. He was so overwhelmed that words failed him, and over the weeks, in comradeship his neighbours in the square also relinquished the medium of speech. For several months, Clavical Square became a mecca for tourists, who came to look at the visual wonders, and gaze undisturbed by word or music at the raw images of life.