One of the unexpected bonuses of choosing Carmona as home base was the fact that we had a 45 minute bus ride to reach Sevilla every day. Inconvenient, on the surface of it, but a precious window into real life outside of the touristy bustle of Sevilla itself. Along the way, the bus would stop at motorway junctions to pick up and let off passengers in what looked like the middle of nowhere (especially in pitch-dark nighttime).
And the middle of nowhere is often great to fix in the frame of the viewfinder. Life, suspended.
At the far end of the bus ride lay Sevilla. I had last been there a scary 30+ number of years ago. I remembered (or had the impression of remembering, or remembered the impression of) a maze of quiet little streets and quaint corners. The streets are still there, and the quaint corners too. What has changed, is the complete surrender of the city, at least in its downtown historic center, to the tourist trade. Not quite at Venice levels, because the locals still seemed to be "using" their own city as if we visitors were not there, but it was difficult to find a spot which was not tourist-oriented.
Or actually, it was not that difficult. As usual, one just needs to get out of the downtown area and turn that extra corner. No more English menus and you are home. Passing the bridge over the Guadalquivir and entering the old potters' neighborhood of Triana was an even safer bet. It's great when city streets are really an open-air living room for everyone to share. A glass of beer always helps, too.