In the heat of August, Seville awakens in a haze of golden light, its proximity to Africa a source of both pride and discomfort. The midday sun blazes down, and the afternoons are spent in the shade, trying to escape the heat.
At night, the city streets are transformed into a bustling camp of nomads, seeking relief from the stifling heat. Mattresses are spread out in doorways and on balconies, and jugs of cool water are passed from hand to hand. The air is filled with the sound of conversation, laughter, and music.
The children of the city are especially excited about the summer nights. They run and play, their imaginations fueled by the heat and the promise of adventure. They are like Ulysses, returning home after a long journey, eager to rest and forget their troubles.
It happened in Seville.
By Paco Albiac
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