Bigger boats now tint the horizon while small family boats carve the stories of past adventures in the sand. They sail in the dreams and memories of older people. Soon, only old photographs will defy time and tell the story of this village, its people, its costumes, its customs, its fishing tradition and techniques. 
The hope, the pain, the hardship, the grief, all hidden under the seven skirts. Seven, like the seven days of the week, like the seven virtues, like the seven waves of the sea. Some say women wore the seven skirts to count the seven waves. And as extra layers to wrap themselves with while waiting on the beach for their husbands.
Men sailed in the search for big fish, the women waited praying for the big fish not to find their men. And for the boat to reach the sand before the seventh wave...

Many men never returned. The sea was the income of the family. The widows had to rent rooms to make a living. "Chambres, Rooms, Zimmer", they announced. This too shall pass, replaced by chains of modernized hotels. Goodbye glamour. Goodbye tradition. Some day soon only the photographs will bear witness of the seven skirts of Nazaré.

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