Portrait of Andalusia through the eyes of a southern traveler

it is the South that opens its mouth black of sun, hungry of men, starving of heroes that offer their flesh to desires stronger than the life, it is the South that frightens the piety and bites the soul of our people.

Portrait of Andalusia abstract: Portrait of Andalusia through the eyes of a Lover

: from above, above the tower bells, the palm trees, the pride of Seville, from above, where there is only blue and cold, from above, the sun overflows the sky and falls, sinking the earth in a like human blood-heat. Dense liquid, the light swallows the space, we breathe into a fiery blindness. The heat lurks, blinds, “un-draws”, all loses limits, of the profiles of the things only the candor of a loneliness of flames is left, the purity of this white that grows till it covers everything.

Shudder traveler, the sun awoke an immense creature, it is the South that opens its mouth black of sun, hungry of men, starving of heroes that offer their flesh to desires stronger than the life, it is the South that frightens the piety and bites the soul of our people. Like an iron dagger, boiling, the sun opens my chest, the heat is a drug that gets us inside through the neck, undoing: the will surrenders to desires that overflow the flesh, it is a sweet numbness, a slow fall of our morality. There is something, there is something in my mouth, a pure desire to bite you, the wish to die loving between sweat and wine.

The sun roars and the earth trembles, the world seems about to break when it arrives, suddenly, unexpected, from the hidden, from the mysterious tranquility behind a wall, a fresh, light air, something distant and strange, an exalted, humid, green, perfume, like the first kiss of a wife, it arrives, from the occult, to stick in the street with the strength of a dream. It is the safe darkness of a “patio”, the piety of shadow and fountain, the only piety we will find here, and this… slow dripping of water, a sound as born between crystals, a sound that closes the eyes, that slowly widen the silence until a violent and silent rupture.

 

Gabi

I am Gabi, an itinerant traditional music player and storyteller, founder and content writer of OTW.

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