Las Aletas

 Rebecca W Morris and Matteo Delred

A writer and a photographer capture thoughts and images at each stop of the Cádiz Cercanias Renfe trainline

Irritation at the station

the sensation of words always flowing too freely

juxtaposed with silence.

Well, it wasn’t what I expected. 

I thought about the Marshlands - that stretch from Walthamstow to Hackney.

The geese migrating in.

Run chicken, run chicken, run, run, run. 

I didn’t know their necks were so red, long and sleek.

Clucking, gentle introverts hiding in trees. 

When a cat approaches I wait for the violence. 

On alert. Ready to intervene.

The grey cat curls up in the long grass under a branch. 

The chickens circle happily.

We always have one foot in our surroundings, the other foot somewhere else. 

We hear the birds, the wind, the clucks, bike wheels on gravel.

I remember jumping out the window of my friend’s crazed ex boyfriend’s house. 

We remember the time everyone laughed hysterically in a work zoom call. 

A failed greeting to a friend the other day as I rushed to the station. 

Wild ideas can come from nothing.

Boredom. Sameness. Predictability. 

We see a floating hat, an exploding egg, hands dancing to tell a story. 

We think about why people find violence beautiful.