Barcelona

Barcelona will soon be but a memory. After three weeks in that city I cant say if I’ll miss it or not. Sure it had beautiful buildings, wonderful parks, and architecture that can’t be found anywhere else, and the people were amazing, I wasn’t disappointed with a single person I spoke with(leaving out of course the junkies, dealers and hobos). It’s the mental strain though, that a city like that gives you, every night enough drugs and alcohol to sedate an elephant, the shady men standing in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to unveil a small present for the drunkard that knows no better. It’s the waking up every morning with a slight headache because of that seventy cent wine you started off with lunch and followed with whatever came your way. After being robbed thirty minutes off the plane, I spent the next two and a half weeks penniless, yet still found myself waking up in random parks at seven a.m. lost, hung-over, and clueless as to how to get back to the hostel. Yet I think after another week or two it would have been hard to leave the city, there is something that calls to us all, maybe it’s the hooker grabbing your cock as you make your way from one bar to the next, or it could be the helpful Indian immigrant willing to sell you a six pack of beer for four euros after all the shops have closed down, and if you’ve got enough money you can make your way to Tequila bar where the customer is the D.J. and for every song someone is smiling and happy. When all common sense has gone the discos are open until all hours so that the animal in us all can be freed. Whatever it is that brings people into this city and then holds them by their balls is easy to imagine. As for me, I'm happy to have gotten out alive and still carrying my soul, on to Seville I go, good bye Barcelona, and may you never succumb to the standards of society.