Madrid (during a heatwave)
There’s still light in the sky at 10:30 pm. Its neon indigo glow is intensified by the pollution and the delirium caused by the heat rising off the pavement. It seeps into your shoes and rolls its way up your body, making your stomach churn and your chest tighten. The air is thick and stuffy. The repetitive churn of generators powering misting fans on restaurant terrazas breaks thoughts up into fragmented images, making it harder to form full sentences. A man shouts in the distance. Glass smashes at the bottom of the recycling bin. The smell of perfume and soap…
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