On the road
It all starts in a non-place.
Expectation, excitement, nerves. We are travelers and the possibility unfolds in our minds with the same intensity with which we observe the destination before our eyes.
All is beauty and peace. Silence. Passion.
And the quiet and intimate passing of time accompanies us.
A time that, in the painting of Federico Granell (Cangas del Narcea, 1974), seems to stop, overwhelmed by the intensity of the journey, trapped in our memory, ready to lose itself, like us, in the beauty of everyday places, in the atmosphere of discovery, in the solitude of lost pleasures.
We are also melancholic beings. Wandering aimlessly. Observers waiting for someone to return our gaze. And, just as we observe and are observed, we are at the center of the world and hide in it, lost in the pleasure of wandering. Because we are wanderers. And only by wandering do we understand that it is the ability to discover, and to discover ourselves, that inspires us most.
Travelling is the place… and a song plays in a little travelogue.
Clara Rodríguez Cordeiro
