A cobbled slope in Burgos, somewhere in the lanes below the cathedral. Stacked café chairs behind a low fence on the left. A furled umbrella out in the middle distance. One white Mini parked across the frame like it was left there by accident. Flat overcast, no shadows worth the name, and not a single person in a picture that contains perhaps two hundred windows. Painters spent most of European history treating a street as a container for events.