Sometimes images clearly explain an event. The photograph of a street in Sedaví filled with piled-up cars is one of them. This perfectly reflects the devastation, there is nothing more to add. Other images produce the opposite effect: they free the imagination. I was absorbed several times while looking at a photo of a blackboard in a school in Sedaví. You can see the date written in the upper left corner of the painting: October 29, 2024. That’s the day life as they knew it ended there. It’s so true that you can see the dust under the 9. All of us who went to school with blackboards know that teachers erased the unit number with their hands and updated the day. Just below you can see a brown line: the height mark where the water has reached. For a child, this scar represents the jaws of an enormous monster, three or four times its height, marked there, in that corner of the board where only the teacher can reach by stretching out her arm. Maybe the monster that swallowed his mother or his friend.
Just below the date, a muddy, dirty veil covers almost the entire painting, revealing the words the professor wrote that fateful morning. We can guess them, but we can barely read them. They represent all the words that have changed their meaning in Sedaví, Paiporta, Benetúser, Alfafar, Picanya, Catarroja, Chiva, Massanassa, Torrent…
