The cry of Munxar

Abstract

I parked my pitiful car in Marsascala near the famous waste recycling plant, and walked all the way to the seashore near pretty St. Thomas Bay. A couples of spirited windsurfers dotted the scene with an amazing dash of colour which was lost in the large expanses of green and blue. There was a large accumulated pile of seaweed (a flowering plant) covering whole areas of the apparently desolate bay. It was brownish in colour and the sea waves battered against its leaves, making a select few slither in a startling way. A group of old men were trying to capture worms and shrimps to use as bait for fishing. They were putting their large nets to good use while they were sifting through hundreds of seaweed strata.