Though you might say the city is full of colors, from Velazquez's tones of greys to Miro's vivid strokes and shapes. From Goya's darkness to Picasso's blues, Rastro's potency and variety of people and fabrics, or even shop windows for tourists full of Sevillanas and colorful magnets - the biggest canvas is above all of us. It's hard to beat the intense blue of Madrid's sky. I have no idea if Giotto has been here, but I'm pretty sure he was inspired by Madrid's sky to paint Padua's chapel's ceiling. The smoothest blue of Madrid's sky lies in contrast with the dryness and ocre buildings and landscape gives me torticollis. The colors may vary from mediterranean sea, Yves Klein Blue and Pantone 293C. It doesn't matter how it's defined - it is, for me, a boost of cheerfulness in any place and mindset I find myself in. I won't be able to touch or reach the blueness of this sky, but it touches me. Deeply. And I happily allow it.

For those who like looking without truly seeing, walking without thinking and see themselves as mere useful cogs - benches are, in fact, useless objects in a big city. However, for many Spanish people, benches are the last paradise for contemplation and hope in places where there is no time for such 'waste'. Benches are an invitation to stop. They are a place to turn our backs to cars, buses and motorbikes and watch inwards. Benches take us to invisible places inside our heads. They help us watch passers-by as if we are watching a movie. A movie featuring real, everyday characters. And those sitting are actors as well. They become both audience to and player in a huge live theatre. The drama is built frame by frame, minute by minute. This is the way that life passes for those who contemplate the invisible. The bench helps us to look outwards to the city and inwards to ourselves, and to watch the great cinema that is the city. And a city like Madrid is full of amazing stories. foto by Eneida Serrano