It was 5.16 am and sleep evaded as usual, which meant another exhausted day in the freezing Catalan capital. Such an existence of nervous traveller was accompanied by the return of his demons. And at this window in time, many more fold. Swimming in and out of tortured imagination.
Another hotel room, more unfamiliar surroundings, a city where the sirens of a stretched emergency service were as clarion calls, heralding another life beginning or …ebbing away….
And so how would today be dealt with….a more gentle promenade was required, a little self care of his systems, which he felt sure had begun to fail…..now a half century had come and gone.
Way below the hotel room, the muted rumble of underground trains were an almost soothing metronome, timing their beat to his heavy heart. Their pulse his pulse.
Share and share alike.
Something for something.
Quid pro quo.
Strangely the previous evening, a wave of loneliness had washed over his being as he went from café to bar to café exploring and searching for one of those Latinas who flicked a pony tail of wisdom at the world………
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Radio Tropicalisima
Listening to cumbia music, I think its called that, a style of music arriving from Columbia and Argentina along with reggaeton and of co...
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