I walk in Madrid, along the Paseo del Prado, the way of the Atocha station. My feet get tangled in the dry leaves of autumn. A long line of calmed people stretches patiently and endless. They expect to see the exhibition of works brought from the Hermitage Museum.
I breathe fresh air under the colourful trees. Ocher, brown, dark green ... and a sweet melancholy in my soul.