What is an urban sky frame? It's a worm's-eye view centring around the sky, almost seamlessly framed by urban structures (a term invented right here, right now).
They're perfectly placed should you spontaneously decide to get your shoes shined, grab a bag of chestnuts or pick up a newspaper, but these gifts of the street are rewarded only to those who slow down. Allow yourself an extra five minutes to get to the nearest no-frills bar, and you'll witness our streets come alive with a multi-generational community of micro shops.
For the past few centuries, Spaniards from all over the country have been packing their bags, saying adios to their towns and villages and setting sail for the big city. When they arrive in Madrid, they disperse into many different lines of work, but there's one business over any other that harks back to the most recent migration boom. You guessed it: Madrid's no-frills bars.
I've spotted a growing movement on Instagram, and I seem to be part of it. Welcome to the Spanish community of retro typography hunters, who are acting fast to preserve Spain's unlikely works of street art.
Five years ago, Mercado San Fernando was close to giving up the ghost, but this little bookstore arrived just in time. Now, the market is rampacked with locals enjoying craft beers, ramen and vegan food, but has it gone too far?
Welcome to the untimely ossuary of Madrid's extinct shops, bars and restaurants – an emotive collection of defunct signage from Madrid's long-lost traditional businesses.
Enrique Bordes and Luis de Sobrón, creators of the map Madrid Bombardeado 1936-1939, are part of a growing movement to expose the lost stories of the Spanish Civil War. They're tracking down our city's hidden wounds and opening them back up in the hope that by redressing them properly, they can finally heal.
Our city gardens are something to be treasured dearly, with so many being lost over the years. Hundreds of grassy nooks and micro orchards have become victim to our ever-expanding metropolis, leaving those that remain with an almost mythical status.
I'm getting used to the sound of hovering helicopters but what can I expect, living in Lavapiés? I live in a barrio so routinely pushed to the edge that, every now and then, the pressure becomes too much and its people crack.
Usman is a Mauritanian organic vegetable farmer with an allotment in the Jarama valley – a beautiful bit of local countryside with clay, terracotta soil, which I know well because I find it in the nooks of my freshly picked purple carrots.
What's popular on the Spanish radio is a world away from what's cooking beneath the surface. Funk, flamenco, Latin jazz and trap have all leapt into the limelight, but there's a part of Madrid's music scene that stubbornly resists going mainstream, even if it might be growing.
Meet Miss Beige, a feminist, anarchist madrileña after all our hearts. She's a common girl living in her own beige world, and she'll spit pipas at anyone who tells her to smile.
Hell's bitter winds have suddenly reversed and the darkest visions of the Spanish Civil War have drifted back onto the streets of Madrid. And for this, we can thank Chicago-born artist Sebastian Maharg, who has made it possible for us to remember what many of us never even saw.
I’d heard on the radio that there was going to be an eviction at 11 am, just a five-minute walk from where I lived. I turned on TeleMadrid and their cameras were already there. I put on my coat, grabbed my camera and said to my other half, “look out for me on the TV”.