Vertical horizons

My city might just be a reflection of what is happening in much of the world. A place where the past still remains standing while the present continues trying to draw the future, little by little. It is strange to think about that, because many of the things that today seem modern or even like something new will, a few years from now, also be seen as part of a time left behind. It sounds like something too obvious to say, but when we stop to truly observe, we realize how everything happens silently. We are so used to this mixture before our eyes that we almost never notice that, one day, what we call the present today will also become just a memory.

When I walk through the city, this mixture between past and present becomes very evident. The city never stops growing. Spaces keep getting smaller, especially downtown, where it feels like every available piece has already been occupied. And then the most common solution appears: growing upward. Floor upon floor, bigger and bigger buildings trying to find space where there is almost no space left at all.

But the most curious thing is how this transformation happens without us fully noticing it. Little by little, everything starts blending together. Modern, mirrored, gleaming constructions begin sharing the landscape with old buildings that still carry marks of another era. And many times, all it takes is looking at the reflection on a glass surface to notice the contrast: the new reflecting the old, as if two different versions of the city were coexisting at the same time. And aren’t they?

I particularly like that. There is something interesting about realizing how patterns change over the years. Ways of building, styles, and details that once seemed natural slowly disappear, giving place to new ideas, new aesthetics, and new needs. The city changes, but it still keeps fragments of what it once was.