Taking the red tram in a loop it was as if there is only one red, the brazen red of the flags, street signs, plastic and petals. A loud frank and direct red. Later I saw there is another red… This rust red is quieter and gentler. It is the red of the old apartment blocks; the red of the path that runs along the sea front; the red jackets of the men serving chai in the cafe on the hill. This is perhaps a more complex red, one that whispers. Both exist side by side, both need each other but sometimes the brash masks the rust beneath.