Cádiz
Writer, Rebecca W Morris, and photographer, Matteo Delred, capture thoughts and images at (almost) all of the train stops from Jerez de la Frontera to Cadiz on the Cercanias trainline. For each stop, one piece of writing is written and one photo is chosen. Seeing the same things they'd seen so many times, but with new eyes, going to the weird corners of Cadiz they thought they'd never visit.
Cádiz - the end of the line
I’m conscious that it’s the end of the line
but we don’t make space for endings.
We hold them quiet in our hearts
spill them in private libations by fountains
or secret night sweats.
I see people standing
poised, in squares.
Actors on the grand stage of Romanesque Cádiz.
They look up, still, at the sky
but all in different directions.
Waiting for summer to die
that relief of release
though not knowing what to do
when it comes.
I stop, and wait a while, but
Nothing.
I see stones inscribed with names
in Moroccan gardens. One says
“Poeta”.
I want to project myself into the future
stand ancient and naked with them
shoulder to shoulder.
I have looked for someone to tell me
the stories I know.
But only I can tell my story.
He tells me he’d rather be a migratory bird
than a seagull.
I think that it must be hard to be a bird of prey.
Always circling. Always hunting.
The dominant admiral of the sky.
Admired and unknown.
The circle will go on.
I will repeat this journey again and again.
Every time I’ll notice something new.