Fishermen selling their fresh catch to waiting customers.

My general practitioner recently told me that I need to exercise more, especially since I spend most of my day sitting behind a desk. So I took heed and now, every weekend, you will find me enjoying an early morning brisk walk along the Marsascala promenade.

At 6.30am, this seaside village is still half asleep. It is this peaceful hush that allows me to think, to notice things, see things differently. It is almost therapeutic.

And the pleasant routine of repetition introduces me to new faces which become familiar – the same faces you smile at every week. Some are on their morning walk; others fast-forward their walk to a jog.

Some are alone; others are in pairs. Everyone moves, without any particular purpose.

Everyone, that is, bar the lone fisherman, as still as a line from a traditional poem, gazing at the sea.

Towards the village core, it gets busier. The vegetable seller has already parked his van and set up his stall, boasting a colourful field of fruit and vegetables.

The pleasant routine of repetition introduces me to new faces which become familiar – the same faces you smile at every week

Further down, more fishermen are docking their boat. I know that by the time I walk back, they would have already sold their catch.

My walk back is brisker. Maybe it’s the smell of freshly-brewed coffee, saying ‘good morning’ to the few having an early breakfast at the couple of bars already open along the promenade.

I take out my camera and take some photos. Maybe to record things which will change. But maybe, some things never change.

Marsascala may not be the small fishing village it once was. And yet, some moods, some routines remain the same.