01 02 03 Eleanor Greer: heat. 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33



Madrid heats up somewhere between 10 and 10:30 and my sun-burnt arms beneath their long sleeves are wanting freedom. In this light we forget that it ever was cold, the feeling of snow and rain. The large department stores hustle to put out sandals, shorts, linen. We all look for skirts, sleeveless tops and the price of sunscreen is ridiculously high. The light is paint and we are all followed by some hand painting it in and painting it out in large, thick gestures. A forehead, a young boy´s scrawny arms, the tops of knees, a woman´s shoulder in a flowery blouse. I have always preferred to paint the lights, the hot colors and bright tones, perhaps they are easier to see or perhaps my soul is the same in intensity. A hot soul.

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