As well as cleaning, receiving post, and providing comfort and security to her residents, María has invaluable long-term knowledge of her building. She knows every square inch, who has lived here and who has died here. She knows things you wish you knew, and things you're glad you don't.
From river launderettes and crucifix carpenters to streetlamp lighters and tinsmiths – in just the last few decades, countless jobs that had existed for centuries have disappeared. Let's take a glimpse of these lost trades and professions, because there's a lot we can see in what no longer exists.
Hearty, home-cooked Senegalese food rolls out of the kitchen fast at Mandela 100, which is owned by Mamadou from Senegal. His Africa-themed diner has hit the ground running, much to the delight – and relief – of Lavapiés locals, because it's not just quality that can be found here; it's also equality.
Ice cream academic Pedro begins the week at his micro ice cream factory in the working-class neighbourhood of Vallecas. His aim is to experiment with a new savoury ingredient, while also finding the perfect level of sweetness.
"These children will become doctors, hairdressers, cooks, rickshaw drivers, photographers - any number of destinies await them. There are potential millionaires, celebrities and probably criminals too and actually, some of them may already have died or had children of their own."
I've been working on revealing these restricted rooms for a little while now – negotiating access to locked spaces and requesting permission to take photos you won't find anywhere else on the internet. And it's all been worth it, because we finally get to see inside the most restricted corners of one of Madrid's most emblematic buildings. But first, there are rules…
Despite their straitened circumstances, the citizens of Lavapiés are a fiercely proud tribe. Throughout history, when pushed too far, they have risen up in bloody clashes with the authorities, and here's why.
Unless you live on this quiet, narrow street in Lavapiés, there's almost no reason for you to walk down it – that is, unless you're going to the Duck Church. Nestled into the ground floor of a centenarian building lives a tiny temple devoted to the rubber duck, and its priest is Leo Bassi, a 66-year-old clown who was born on tour.
Edward Lawrence continues his offbeat adventures to the most surprisingly located no-frills bars in Madrid. This time, he explores two bus stations, a family-run service station and a shrine to Franco, and climbs a hill – passing a decaying bunker – to find serenity in the most peculiar place.
Casa Postal is an unfinished, no-frills cabinet of curiosities that will transport you back to your childhood, your mother's childhood, your grandmother's childhood and beyond if you let your imagination take you there.
Nathan Brenville likes to explore his local barrio with sketchbook in hand, believing that drawing is the best way to notice the details of his surroundings. While doing so, it often leads to some interesting conversations with passers-by, which is exactly how Nathan met Encarni.
When I asked Jose Luis Jiménez who the people in the photographs were, he spent the next half hour telling me stories from his childhood and showing me pictures taken by his friends from all over the world.
Madrid's drinking fountains are beautiful, carefully designed and soaked in history. But, you've probably walked past dozens thinking very little of them – perhaps you thought they were miniature monuments, a fire hydrant or an electricity box.
"Do you know about El Comunista? It's painted Ruby red for people who can't read – just like the other bodegas – and when you step inside, you'll see the Spain my great-grandparents knew"