The bathers playing football on a Portuguese beach appear to us now like tiny figures in a twilight ballet. That old Portuguese man sitting on the pier, wearing a flat cap, turns his back to us as he gazes, absorbed, at the Tagus. If it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t seen it, one might take it as Baylón’s homage to Bruno Ganz, who also turned his back to us in the opening shots of En la ciudad blanca, Wim Wenders’s beautiful tribute to Lisbon. Equally hypnotised by the fatal haze of the Atlantic horizon. The photographer, so often, does not look at his subjects, but through them.

Quico Rivas