For the summer I lived in Vilassar de Mar, Spain, I hung my laundry out to dry. Yep, I did (as it's done in most places other than the United States). But for me, it's always an adjustment and really not so bad. I'm pretty sure Mother Earth appreciates it, too.
I loved our Catalan apartment, mostly our close proximity to the Mediterranean, but also because of the back balcony that opened out to a huge, empty lot... a laundry courtyard if you will.
One slow afternoon, accompanied by an estrella and rollie, I watched unknown hands stretch out from an across-the-way window and proceed to hang laundry high above the ground. I never saw the person's face - just their hands - as they busily adjusted and moved things around and ultimately left them there to dry, not in the least bit worried if they fell. I thought it was a beautiful imagery, after all, they are just things.
Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera on me, so I tried to stake out the mystery hands several times afterwards, hoping I'd capture the moment again. But alas, I came up empty-handed.
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| Vilassar de Mar, Spain. |
One slow afternoon, accompanied by an estrella and rollie, I watched unknown hands stretch out from an across-the-way window and proceed to hang laundry high above the ground. I never saw the person's face - just their hands - as they busily adjusted and moved things around and ultimately left them there to dry, not in the least bit worried if they fell. I thought it was a beautiful imagery, after all, they are just things.
Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera on me, so I tried to stake out the mystery hands several times afterwards, hoping I'd capture the moment again. But alas, I came up empty-handed.
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