Av Ies Luis Seoane Review

"Yes. The name is on the sign, but the man is... vague to most people."

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"The Avenida de Luis Seoane ," she said softly. "Drive slow, please. I’m not in a hurry to get there, and I’m in no hurry to leave." av ies luis seoane

"Driver, do you know why they name streets after people?"

"You know," Mateo said, breaking the comfortable silence, "I’ve driven this road a thousand times. It’s one of the longest in the city. But I never really thought about the man." "The Avenida de Luis Seoane ," she said softly

The rain in A Coruña does not fall; it usually flies horizontally, pushed by the Atlantic winds. Mateo tightened his scarf, watching the drops skate across the windshield of his taxi. It was a Tuesday evening, the kind where the grey sky makes the streetlights glow prematurely.

"Stop here," she said suddenly.

The woman smiled, a sad, knowing expression. "He was a painter, a graphic artist, a writer. He was a man of exile. He had to leave Galicia during the war, went to Buenos Aires. He drew the faces of our ancestors when he couldn't see them. He drew the birds and the stones of the coast when he was thousands of miles away."