The sound of heels on the living-room hardwood, papers fluttering onto the
floor, gathered in a rush, clothes strewn over the bed, suitcase bursting with
clothes and papers and other personal belongings.
The sound of boots in the kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee under the
yellowish glow of a lightbulb, doors being shut, cupboards being opened, the sound
of cups on the table.
Once last glance at the apartment, the plants, the pictures on the wall, the
many items that have been part of their life, making it particularly meaningful;
the door bangs shut, the sound of keys can be heard, the phone rings
insistently, raucously, but nobody takes the call.
They cautiously open the lift and, out on the street, a cab waits in that cold
April night; it sets off, against a monotonous sound of wipers, and they bear
straight along the avenue littered with sleepy lamps, towards the airport.
Shortly afterwards, a black car screeches to a halt in front of the house and
four men in raincoats and hats rush out and upstairs; soon, all the lights in
the abandoned house are on, and the din of furniture being overturned and objects
being shattered can be heard; nothing is spared.
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| GREGORIO GIGORRO "Qué tarde la de aquel día" Acrylic and ink on canvas Signed and dated in 2015 Dimensions: 54 x 81 cm Aranjuez, 15 mayo 2015 |
