Death was imminent. I was sure of it. It was so humid that the word “air” could be used only sparingly. And it was so hot that there may as well have been an onion on my head and a tomato in my mouth: I was being roasted alive. The thermometer pegged the temperature at 72oC (162oF).
A week of work, a day off, a walk through the park. I’ve been sidelined from posting lately, but I’ve been thinking of Spain and it’s time to get back to photography.
2 Comments
Wow! well done. Looks strange and beautiful.
Thanks!