Sunday, 16 June 2019
I arrived at the Fundación Mapfre in Madrid one hour before the opening time of the exhibition ‘Berenice Abbott: Portraits of Modernity’.
I walked the streets thinking a bit, then I sat waiting in a quiet square. Or I sat quietly waiting in a square. I wrote a poem while I was there, in the dappled sunlight under the trees, waiting in the Plaza de las Salesas.