Yesterday it was polygamy, today it is clothes pegs. Oh yes, never a dull moment.
If you are wondering if that is my an artsy abstract interpretation or just a blurry photo of some clothes pegs, the truth is it’s just a blurry photo of some clothes pegs. Because I am not the artist. Yago is.
Actually, this is my laundry room. OK, “room” is a bit of an exaggeration. The laundry “area” perhaps, or laundry “zone” may be more accurate. But I find the Spanish apartment laundry system quite ingenious. In my kitchen I have a sliding door that you would expect to open onto a little balcony. It actually opens onto nothing. Just a railing that protects you from instant death as you hang your laundry off the side of the building, 8 floors up.
There is a partially bricked-in wall between our undies and the great beyond that allows air to flow, but breaks the wind and protects passing citizenry from a full view of our dirty laundry. It isn’t much to look at, but it’s a great space saver.
The mesh screen, well that was put up when Yago came along. It saves him from an 8-story free fall and saves the neighbourhood from a constant rain of clothes pegs. It is Yago’s canvas. While I hang laundry he works on his ever evolving art installation of clothes pegs on mesh. His creative outlet gives me the luxury of at least 4 minutes of peace to hang wet clothes.
That’s the view from above. My husband’s underwear and 8 floors of various neighbours’ undergarments blowing in the wind. You see, the clothes peg art is a nice change of scenery.
Not So Spanish 