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  


I see stones inscribed with names 

in Moroccan gardens. One says 


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.