Ablita is home to two cities, one of summer and the other of winter. In the summer months, men descend on Abilta from their winter quarters in the cities and make sand castles and drink on the shores. The boardwalk and the shacks play host to nights where the guitarists never stop strumming and bonfires light up the city in the ambient light of shadows and the gusts of smoke. By summer’s end, the paint of the beachhouses has begun to peel and the men and the women are fatter and happier and tanned from pig roasts and beer. With the cold winds, these men leave Abilta and a new city is borne.
The winter city of Abilta is not a city of men. Gulls and pipers descend upon the trash heaps. Ants and termite mounds emerge like pyramids from the sand strewn floors. The spectacle grows until the infestation colonizes the houses, the gulls nest in the chimneys and turtles mate in the wading pools of summer’s beach banquets.
Snows engulf Abilta and burrowers worm tunnels beneath the foundations as young snow cats and foxes find their way inside for food. By spring the houses show cracks and their color has begun to bear the white of winter, but the guests reproduce before setting off for the life of summer. When the sea warms and the first men descend from the hill towns to the beaches, the city is ramshackle and tattered and the memories of the past summer long tarnished.
The insects and the vermin and the gulls leave for some island or underground capital or are else massacred in the paint fumes and the dustings of late spring- but the city of summer Ablita always rises anew. The rise and fall of Abilta is a yearly occurrence, but for the summer city Abilta is a memory of only one city and one season. The winter city of Ablita is more beautiful, but there are none there to call it so.