Storytelling and Photography: Oana Maroti
Our shadows intersect in full sun, on surfaces full of shit, big city surfaces.
Enough bakeries, bars, restaurants, and shops still don't have air conditioning. A few fans are installed on the central terraces, at an extra price for vital comfort, only available to presentable customers, just like access to the toilets.
In the hot summers, I used to refúgiate in cathedrals and churches, of all kinds, buildings that preserve the feeling of coolness, which someone like me, who faints from the heat, needs. Politely, I exposed myself to culture and took advantage of the open doors, because I didn't have any state money for terraces.
In Barcelona, the city where I live, they don't do this anymore, although the summers, even the springs, are terminal. This year, people started dying at work in May. Temperatures rise every year, and wherever you are, no matter how small the travel distance, shade and coolness are needed, but here the gates are not open, and there is a counter at the entrance.
If you want to drink water, because you will dehydrate yourself, you can buy it, and it costs differently, the same water; it is a big business with water too. The beautiful water fountains in the city have water, not all of them, but it is warm. Those who do not have tourist money to pay for cold water can only drink well-heated water.
Residents have fled the city's heat, but in summer, public transport is overcrowded. Not all metro stations are air-conditioned, which can be stifling. We all have abanicos and use them while listening to music in our headphones, or without music, simply creating a personal rhythm for each moment, for the more experienced.
August is approaching, when the privileged take their vacations in droves, whilst the unprivileged work every year, in August. Anyway, the unprivileged, sacrificial ones, usually migrants, women, and neurodivergent, certainly have nothing to do with the tourist crowds, the terrifying pollution, and the cemented urbanism, or with the trees in vases.
The evergreen trees are barely standing, crowded by highways and buildings. The hills spread the proud scent of fig trees, but even the mighty fig trees are barely standing.
The wind blows a little, and some clouds pass. I wait impatiently for the rain and petrichor. The ants make their way through all the cracks under any apartment building. The wind blows, and they appear to collect everything that has fallen. Natural city cleaners, invisible and unappreciated, but my pair and I observe them and try our best not to step on the small super-heroes.
Underground Art & Literature - open access to culture 