harriak: “él él él” exposición
For me, a park is Mariana. The women of Algiers. A red fluorescent sun.
Alba is from Bilbao, her mother too, and her father from Burgos. Julen is from Beasain, his mother and father from Córdoba. Distant and alone. Manu is from Madrid, his mother from Castilla, his father from the Dominican Republic.
There’s no need to theorise to better explain what’s close by. On the terrace, in accident and emergency, in the Turkish song, on the foosball table, in loose cigarettes, in the wheelchair, in that too-hot summer, on the steering wheel, in Remedios, on the screen, in the laptop. Between all those things, close by. Between these hills. Next to the river of stones. Give me the palm of your hand.