ACROSS FROM MY WINDOW

Sometimes I think that if I lived in the countryside I would paint landscapes of mountains, valleys and rivers full of fish, moss and stones, trees with leaves in all the chromatic ranges or leafless, with gnarled branches and colourful birds, or I would try to imitate the transparent patches of greens, blues and violets of the sea, as they move about metallic rocks, forming many caves...

But I happen to live in the city, and the predominant landscape is made of clothes hanging from the neighbours' flowerless and greenless balconies. Sometimes they wave in the wind, sketching little wriggly ghosts. At times they show fascinating colours, ocassionally they display mournful blacks and browns, and now and then white, cold shrouds, as if of marble.