Who is the center of the world?

Madrid. Christmas Eve in the morning. Gran Vía.

I go up high and look at everything from above. I have no vertigo. I love it. I spent my childhood living in a twelfth floor.
I don´t remember the last time I was looking out from above and paying attention at all.



I change the point of view and suddenly things look different: People are mosquitos and ants, cars are cockroaches.

Suddenly life changes and Madrid is like a toy-city run by someone bigger and more powerful.

Everyday problems seem nonsenses considering everything that surrounds us, and how we look like insects from above ...

Isn´t silly that sometimes we think we are the center of the world?