STOP WAR
Around here, summers are hot â everyone knows that. And this summer of 2026 is exceptionally sweltering; it seems as though it will never end and has so far denied us the respite and relief from the heat that were customary in previous, albeit hot, summers.
So we avoid going out during the hottest hours if we can possibly do without it; no long walks around the city in search â in my case â of things and people to turn into photographs: there are few people about, and always the same ones, mainly tourists worn out by the unbearable heat or homeless people braving the sun, at loggerheads with the whole world.
But itâs still my city, and I think itâs only right to make the most of whatâs on offer, however little that may be, jotting down â to quote an author dear to me â some âNotes on cuffsâ.
Images taken in my neighbourhood during July
I therefore present a few images, almost all taken in my neighbourhood during July, little notes on the everyday grotesque that this heatwave brings into sharper relief.
Nothing dramatic, though; for real tragedies, one would have to go to other places and other latitudes, and Iâm a bit too old for that, here, on the other hand, one can only see a few vaguely alarmed glances at the persistent swelter, but of the sort that says, âMy dear lady, there are no longer any mid-seasonsâ, with no realisation that theyâre dancing on a sinking ship, or a few slightly surreal figures intent on seeking rest and coolness where there is none.
These images, then, are captured with the understatement of someone who feels the heat, like everyone else, but doesnât suffer from it excessively and tolerates it well.
A great stroke of luck for me, I think, or perhaps a pre-emptive adaptation to the near future that lies ahead.
