Winter is finally here. Leaving the house in three layers of sweaters,  is not excessive, it’s necessary. But walking in Madrid never ceases to make me feel like a little girl. Leaving the house means coming home in awe. Last night was no exception.

The king’s palace gardens became a pyros playground. Steel welders filled the gardens with fire fountains. Huge iron sculptures held fire balls. White shirts with candles inside of them swung on hangers from all the trees.

The whole scene was carnivalesque. Musicians in pin-striped suits hid in the bushes mixing ambient music with the sounds of laughter and children playing.

The crowds of hundreds stayed close to the heat giving art. No one wanted to leave the fire gardens and walk back home through the cold.