I’ve been away from Seville for a long time. Not long enough to forget the sharp near salty tang of the local fino sherry, that bitter sensation that once warmed my throat like turpentine before seducing me with its subtler flavours. Not long enough to forget the ferocious summer heat, that outdoor bite of sunshine that pushes life itself into the confines of after dark.
No, Seville’s vivid details remain strong. But sitting on the aeroplane, sorting through photos for another project, it struck me how some things had started to fade.
The rhythm of the kayak paddles on the early morning Guadalquivir. The bold ceramics of the Plaza España, emerging step by step from its prolonged programme of renovation. The narrowness of the streets and the tall jets of private fountains.
The soft speed of the language, a chatter and chorus of cackling canaries.
My computer screen displays my upcoming projects: ideas and deadlines on digital sticky notes, a pixelated version of crazy paving.
I’m looking forward to writing more about Sydney, about Sweden and Poland, Malaysia and Jordan, the US and more. There’s the final stage of the ironroute journey, an upcoming class on social media for writers plus a foray deeper into the world of travel photography.
All in all, there is much to do and much to look forward to.
But before the cabin crew make me switch off for landing, I’m going to allow myself the luxury of enjoying my Seville photos.
Seville, it’s been too long and I’m looking forward to seeing you.