Mar Mateo: The Road

A window is the sign of life and connection.

The first time I visited the road it was as a pedestrian. I was walking and looking for histories to tell. The second time was with my camera, an open window framing the road. I researched for foot prints and echoes of the past. The bricks the tiles, the stones, the wooden fences, the key holes, the metal frames, the
chimneys, the doors. Everywhere I looked I saw the finger prints of time.

But what about those who have worked, slept, eaten, sang, cried? The residents who have laughed, had their children and even died? Where could I find their footprints, these inhabitants of the past?
Going into the houses and looking out through their windows the road takes on other dimensions. I catch glances of the outside world and, with my imagination, reach out towards the wonderful or sad records of the vicissitudes of the
houses.

“Oh, Mar! That window is very dirty! Let me clean it first”.

“No! No!” I would say. “I prefer it like that. With the finger prints all over the place!”

“Let me move the flowers…you will see better”.

“Oh, no! Don't worry. I like the flowers there.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes please.”

We would sit down next to the window and talk about many things. She would tell me all about the flowers, the curtains. And I would leave the house with my camera full of histories to tell.

Mar

Enter the Road

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