Joro lives next-door to us. I see him all the time and it makes me so happy. Despite his age and his walker, Joro walks the streets of our neighborhood all day. I pass him on my way to school and again on my way home, on my way to the market and again coming home with produce.
You can't imagine how slowly Joro walks. His steps are measured in terms of inches and sometimes he is still on the same street after I've returned from my errands.
There happened to be nobody else around when Ted took this photo of "me", but imagine whizzing motos, screaming children with flying balls, large trucks sweeping the streets and groups hipsters chatting on their way to a bar. Joro keeps it steady through all of this.
He reminds me of my Opa, my grandfather from Texas - proud, strong, determined, patient - but also of a part of Spain that I find wonderful. There's a place in Spain for the old - old people, old architecture, old customs and traditions. It's refreshing to see the old ways of life preserved amongst the modern reality of hustle-and-bustle, colorful and plastic.
I have a feeling Joro will be a character in more of my stories.