Laughter filled the hot evening air

Just before 11 p.m. in the center of Madrid.

It’s busy, beautiful friends meet for drinks, young children play in the street, and in the distance: laughter fills the hot evening air while someone plays a bass guitar.

The Anthropocenic afternoons have increasingly become too hot to comfortably walk the streets of Spain’s capital. Soft lies have led to a desperate world.

Doors closed, windows shut. We all walk from shadow to shadow. As in a wave we move to avoid the heat. The end starts with a game, similar to what we I used to play as a child.

Finisterre, literally the end of the world, is close to Santiago de Compostela. The end is never central, but Spain lies in the Central European time zone. The scattered sun doesn’t care, so it doesn’t race down to the sea.

On this hot evening, when the sun sets late and people party until early the next morning, I go to sleep in a city that is very much alive.

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