Orange Sky

The Vue by Diego Sanz

I was melting, no one knew. The atmosphere was sweet and warm. The sky was dying slowly. Jasmine flowers blooming in his soul, no one knew. My hands were nervous and traveled to untouched places as a means to wait for. The city was flat and busy. Inside each apartment, there was a story being told. Someone waiting for someone, someone else was going somewhere. There was a place for friends to taste life at different levels: people with unique backgrounds and implicit influences, the subtleties of life. You hadn’t crossed my path. I was the girl on the bridge. I was in war. You were behind the camera.

Your softness reminds me of a Turner painting. That orange sky you saw, the almost blue-almost purple, that window, the freedom you were photographing: that was all part of me. We were sharing a day at a certain distance that wasn’t that distant after all. Our loneliness was a pending loneliness: a temporary form of idleness. We were like two buildings standing next to each other. But one day, the sunset was beautiful, and the buildings decided to give flying a shot. Slowly, they were becoming organic, more and more like two birds: a Calatrava project, a Calatrava dream.

The two buildings discovered themselves in freedom, being something else. Being sometimes is all there is. It's not enough, but your choices are limited: so you are. The limits of being.

And all of that structure was transformed into something else: a type of energy so alive that it felt pungent, yet soft. Those wings merged into one dream and lost and embraced themselves in that infinite orange.

And for some reason yet to be discovered, it all made sense.