There is a very good reason why moving house is said to be one of, if not the most stressful experiences in a person’s average life: because it’s true. What looks on paper to be a simple event, with just a little effort and a few cardboard boxes thrown in, quickly becomes a herculean effort with as much cardboard and bubble wrap as would be required to encase your average skyscraper. Or so it was with my move that is, the second in just 12 months, across from one end of Palma de Mallorca to the other. The move marked a clear inconvenience, but for many reasons was both necessary and desirable. And it was with these many positives in mind that we maintained our resolve as we heaved suitcases full of books and paintings across the cobbled streets and many stairs which fill the centre of Palma.
Almost 8 weeks after the moving process first began, we have finally began to settle in our new abode; a modern apartment which is reminiscent of our comfortable London home, except that here we benefit from a sizeable terrace and a wonderful view of palm trees and cypresses – one view you are sure not to get in Blighty. And now with the comfort of settling in finally upon us, the time to contemplate our new space and surroundings has also arrived, and in these first photos, I wanted to share with you some of my first shots, not within the new flat, but outside it. For as I awake in the morning, or gaze at a sunset upon the onset of the night, it is the views from this new home which enchant me… new views to get lost in; new horizons to explore.
But the time of our acquaintance with a fresh start in a new home coincided with the time of the year when people tend to direct their minds backwards; to a past in which a loved one was by their side; to a time when a person’s presence made their lives very different. For in the world outside of our new home, Spain was marking its day of the dead, and in La Rambla, the sprawling flower market lining the entire central avenue of one of Palma’s principle boulevards, flower arrangements created to newly embellish the gravesides of lost love ones overflowed onto the pavements, so that down this road of some half a kilometre in length, it was like a single wave of bounteous colour had erupted across the ordinarily grey road.
As with the cemeteries I love, the Day of the Dead is undoubtedly characterised by a sense of pathos and loss, but none can deny the beauty which accompanies this annual day of remembrance; when from the bleak monotony of sadness, colour erupts in a floral feast to mark a fresh adieu to lost loved ones.
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