Love letter to the sky of Madrid
Today my universe ends in what my window gives of itself. I'm lucky, it's the balcony of an old house with high ceilings in downtown Madrid.
In it I live these days my greatest adventures: lean out for a cup of coffee, read a book with my feet up, or find a breath of fresh air.
I'm lucky, because what I have in front of my eyes is your sky. Nothing less than the sky of Madrid.
The one to which, equally, the blue blood cats and pedigree of three generations, the street cats and to the adopted cats it makes us breastfeed.
There is no sky like Madrid
We ensure – we put our hand in the fire – that It has won by a landslide to be in the Olympus of the most beautiful skies in the world. It is enough to go out on the balcony to check it out, but also, say the experts, that it has an explanation, its flat orography that gives a lot of horizon and has few obstacles.
Clear and bright, your blue never goes on vacation. Neither in January nor in August. And if he has something, like the man from Madrid, it's attitude and more waist than a figure eight to improvise and weather storms.
Those who arrive for the first time listen to our story in disbelief; those who spend a few days are convinced at the first candilazo (those cloudy sunsets illuminated by red lights) in front of the Debod temple or the Carrión Building and its eternal Schweppes neon; and those who stay here make it their own and now, like us, they can't get used to living without it.
"Today my universe ends as far as my window gives"
Like someone who was born in the sea and is turned into a rainfed sea lion, who goes around sighing at his anchor tattooed on his biceps and always gargling with salt water to deceive the melancholy.
Just like them, who put the ocean in shields or sing to the sea in their hymns with moist eyes, We Madrilenians have made our sky a flag. Literally.
The bear leaning on a strawberry tree that appears on the shield is not a bear, but a bear, and not just any bear, but the Little Bear; and the cyan strip that surrounds it, is not a random decoration either, but a schematic representation of our sky with its seven eight-pointed stars.
The bear leaning on a strawberry tree is not a bear, but a bear: the Little Bear
These are hard, sad and uncertain days for the city the hardest, saddest and most uncertain that many of us can remember.
Perhaps that is why, although now it is cleaner and more pristine than ever from the forced stoppage of its cars, the Madrid sky tends to tearful and dull.
Until all this is over – hopefully sooner than later – those of us who are lucky enough to have a balcony We will continue to go out for a coffee, to take a break from our telework and to pay tribute to our toilets every day at 8:00 p.m. always looking up.
Those who live in an interior flat or on a ground floor, those who are in the hospital, the doctors and nurses who will see little of him these days ... they will do the same, seeking strength and inspiration, fantasizing about it like someone who dreams of the image of a paradisiacal beach with palm and coconut trees. Like dry land sea lions do with the noise of the waves.
Upload your sky from Madrid or wherever you read us to Instagram and tag us. #HeavensTraveler. Let's travel together through the skies of the world.
Heaven is our beach