wing collar kaftan

The sun lingers, gilding rooftops and brushing faces in rose-gold. As my carriage pulls into the Plaza de España, the light reluctantly drapes itself over Seville. The plazaís towers cast shadows across the canal. I wander. The evening settles around me. Mosaics cradle the last light, each hand-painted tile a universe of ceramic blue, lemon yellow, Sevillian orange and botanical greens. Spainís fifty-two provinces gather around the square like stories ó history in colour and clay. My cheeks flush with inspiration as the sun slips behind the arches. And I gather its colours gently, like fragments of a story still choosing shape.