There are traditions that continue to be acts of rebellion against speed and haste. Going out with the chair at the door of the house, on that side where the sun doesn't shine in summer or where the heat is pressing in winter, where to take cover from the wind in a village in Burgal or to look for the freshest air in any Andalusian village, is one of them.

My family and my grandmother in particular, come from rural environments where "going out in the fresh air" is part of everyday life. A few chairs, almost all of them different, are the setting for endless conversations, gossip or simple comments about those who walk past the front door of the house at that time of day. They are meeting places, common spaces in which to share and let time pass. Snacks are brought out, coffee, pastries or whatever is needed?

Piedad had her own, with her cushion; there was always an empty one waiting for an innkeeper, inviting you to sit and chat, to BE.There are traditions that make up the DNA of a society, and this one in particular deserved its homage, like my grandmother.

Mural for the @31330artfestival in Villafranca, Navarra.