Damn hot. After we ate our lentils yesterday we did some more work and sweated. Then we went up to the Corte Ingles at Nuevos Ministerios and got trapped by the Cercanias turnstiles. With her usual class and savoir faire A slipped behind some unsuspecting commuters and escaped first. I was too slow and got scissored by the gate. The security guard had to let me out while A smiled and enjoyed her freedom. At the Corte Ingles we walked around and enjoyed the air conditioning, bought a gift for my brother, and generally wore ourselves out. On our way back home we stopped at our neighborhood bar, the Cruz Blanca, and had a couple of cañas. We made a salad and bocadillos de lomo for dinner and started watching El aura. I got sleepy and crabby and went to bed before it was over. It was hard to sleep last night because it was so hot. I had a dream about Bill Cosby (who turned out to be a really nice guy) and A had a dream in which Virginia Rodrigues cuddled and sang to her while she slept.
We woke up at 8 and have been sitting around ever since. Greg wrote me an email with a Youtube link in which I discovered that Noah Kalina stole my big idea. My failed art project in which I take a picture of myself everyday for a couple of years. He beat me by sheer force of determination. I never could have done it for 6 years. That's crazy. But to be honest I think that Mr. Kalina's project suffers from a lack of variation. His eyes never change. His expression remains the same for six years. I think he should have grown a moustache or a beard or something. And perhaps given us a little information about his emotional states or at least what he might have been thinking about at the time. In my project, which I realized with a Polaroid, I wrote journal entries in the white space below the image. Maybe when we get home I will go to the basement and dust the box off and do something with those photos. Something grand.
A has just called to me from her studio. We are going to the Picasso exhibit at the Prado. Oh yes. Air conditioning.
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