El idioma

We get lost in the mosaic of streets
(what’s the Spanish for left, right, over there?)
To mark our way, we note each artist’s courtyard
tucked into city walls – each one filled
with different variations of plants.
Slowly, we learn the language of the city

from nouns: cactus / palm / evergreen
to verbs: painting / writing / musing.

*

You notice a stray cat sunbathing on a bench,
speak in mews to attract its attention.
I remember the quietness of that Hemingway story
a man and a woman and a cat in the rain.

*

Oranges fall from trees
bloated with juice and orange daylight.
We press down on their flesh with our feet,
smell citrus in orange puddles
spilling from their orange skin –

zumo de naranja: the words taste
orange in my mouth.

*

We climb the sloping inclines
of the Giralda
counting each level as we pass,
quiet and out of breath,
uno to treinte y cinco.

*

At an expensive restaurant,
you order carpaccio
thinking it will be cooked cod –
when it arrives it is raw and icy,
thin like a leaf or lace doily.

We cook it and feed it to the cat.

*

I buy a poetry collection,
order green tea
from a shop on the outskirts of town.

I sit in the corner beneath a portrait of Frida Kahlo,
hand-painted on porcelain.

Though I barely understand the words inside,
I fold over the page on the image:
la puesta del sol en la librería
sundown in the bookshop –

a quiet space
where no one has to speak.

*

We scramble onto the rooftop of our hotel
ignoring the words non entrar
painted in red.

You take photos of the city and say
it’s golden hour. The shift
between evening and night,
when photographs expose stories
in orange.

*

You lean across the table
and thank me
for never forcing you to talk about it.

The past is:
orange seeds / palm roots / city walls.

We drink sangria.
It is warm on our tongues.

From the notebook:

Natalie: This is probably one of my favourite poems that I’ve written. I wrote it after Chris and I visited Seville in February, before Pen & Bulb was even a thing, and it made me realise the joy of travel writing or, more specifically, travel poetry. I think this poem alongside the 35mm photographs that came back from Spain made me realise that Chris and I could make something a little bit different with our work, could travel together, could create and share… So I guess Seville will always hold a special place in my heart, not only because it is a truly stunning city of flamenco, mosaic and oranges, but also because it is the place that first inspired Pen & Bulb. In terms of the poem, I wanted to write about language – different conversation, different words, different types of speaking; I hope that came across.

Chris: This was the first roll of film I’ve ever shot. I borrowed my flatmate’s Canon EOS 300 and 2 rolls of Portra 400 on his recommendation (cheers Ali). I’ve never had to ‘think’ about taking a photo so much before and I really enjoyed this new level of discipline. Having only 36 shots that require fairly specific conditions for shooting really makes you think differently about what you want from each frame. These first few rolls taught me a lot about how the relationship between light and dark comes across in film. I match Natalie’s feelings towards Seville, not only is it an incredibly beautiful city with a fascinating history, it is now the birth place of Pen & Bulb.