It is said that the painter David Hockney's obsession with swimming pools began when, on a flight from London to Los Angeles, he was surprised by the number of blue spots breaking up the greyness of the city. The Californian sun hit the water patches, which shimmered upwards. That blue and shiny beauty fascinated him, but it also led him to think about his country. In the sixties, in England, having a private swimming pool was a great luxury. In the star city of California, it seemed like a normal thing. Swimming pools presented themselves to him as clear evidence of the American dream. A socioeconomic indicator, but also a promise of the freedom and enjoyment that he, as a homosexual person, had not found in the country where he was born.

I read about a commotion Don't bother answering me (Empúries, 2026), the book that collects the letters that were sent Salvador Espriu and Joan VinyoliThey are not particularly poetic, political, or socially contextual letters. They are personal lettersThe messages exchanged between two friends to celebrate life's triumphs and lament its sorrows and disappointments. In total, they contain forty letters from Espriu to Vinyoli, eight from Espriu to Teresa Sastre (Vinyoli's wife), and only seven from Vinyoli to Espriu.