I first heard the Concierto de Aranjuez or En Aranjuez con tu Amor in an album by Il Divo, and it continues to be one of the most powerful and emotional songs I have ever heard; no other song has given the sound of a Spanish guitar as much importance as this.
Composed by a Spaniard—Juaquin Rodrigo—it tells the story of a place where the words “dream” and “love” become more than just metaphors for things that will never materialize past imagination; where there is a rumor of gardens with crystal fountains that whisper to the roses about lovers who are no more. But places remember things people don’t or refuse to. Here, the colorless leaves being swept by the wind carry memories of a love once had. Here, he says, love is hidden in the sunsets, in the breeze, and in flowers.
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The streets all look the same in Sevilla, but still I was certain there was no way I could ever get lost there. I wandered aimlessly through residential areas, peering into patios to catch a glimpse of the patterned tiles that never seemed to repeat themselves. The streets were void of people, save for an old lady I came across who stared at me as if I was out of my mind for looking into random peoples’ courtyards.
I wondered if people found their ways home based solely on the pattern of the tiles on the patios. It’s a silly idea, but I couldn’t stop myself from imagining a man looking to purchase a new home for him and his bride. He would say: I want a house with yellow and blue tiles. He would be disappointed when his realtor would tell him that the pattern had already been taken by señor so and so. You can’t have a house with the same pattern, the realtor would say. You might mistake another man’s house for your own! |
best handled with a glass of wine
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