After it rains, you feel the cold, damp atmosphere of the city mixed with the smell of exhaust pipe and wet dust and not usually pleasant.
In fact it is not, but different things happen around us, and especially different perceptions.
It is good to walk and think about everything and nothing, to breathe and look and understand that everything continues even if one is not there. It is not just about focusing on taking pictures like an automaton, looking for light effects, shapes, motives, etc …
Somehow unconscious in each thing your interior is reflected.
In particular, these days are not happy and melancholy makes an appearance easily. A particularly productive melancholy. In fact, it is not few authors of almost all artistic disciplines who go out to look for it … and meet it, and even carry it with it all their lives. In any case it is good to experience it and to know it.
A lonely litter bin, destitute in form and content, nailed to the ground by a sentence that will only end with its end. Its reflection, a hope in which it is reflected on the dark stormy clouds.
A photographer who sees and feels it.
Captivity, loneliness and hope.
Madrid, February 1994. In front of ‘El Puente de los Franceses’.
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