* No title - acrylic on canvas, 30x30cm, 2023 I saw you sitting there every evening I saw you scrutinizing the shapes of things, the sky, dirty, grey, grimacing ugly, the people walking elsewhere, the sad, dull buildings, the ochre paint. Blending in with the grime the half-closed windows and the neglected gardens, the barren leaf litter, your cigarettes, the automatic sprinkler as a farewell when you enlisted the night and locked everything up. You were so beautiful with your winter make-up so exotic for this month of August, so impossible and yet underneath the elusive and aged look that we all get after a few months here in Madrid, under the cornices, [so far from the Gran Vía, smoking one of your menthol cigarettes under the sky [dirty that the only thing I could think of was whether the next day you'd be there, on the other side of my window, that overlooked your