In Málaga, men of a certain age wear hats. Not one man or two, not even just a few. They wear hats. There's a certain order of things...

A bedroom by the sea. In a small town made of white houses. I'm in Mijas, gazing at a Mediterranean site out the window. When it's early...

Málaga. 11am. It's been raining for three days. I hear the drops tipping on the window glass. It's been raining. Tic toc tic toc. I pick...

And all that was left were the escaped realities, you had constructed. The endless turmoils, to avoid facing our unrealised fantasies.