i am almost finished with barcelona now, barcelona has almost finished me. the q–bar where we drink fidel castros for 3 euros is insidious and invidious to my frame, but spurs and pricks the bar–loving mind.
and so tomorrow, to france i shall go, on board two aeroplanes in one day. cowering twice at the takeoff – the most dangerous part of the flight! friends, family, and a certain fille i shall see, and i shall see bohemianly.
i write in an internet cafe around the corner for 1 euro an hour, though the price may be raised by my misguided clicks which store my cunning password.
i will see you all soon, all you folk that pass onto this barcelona page. spinning and grinning. for old times´ sakes.
stepping over cracks
fresh plastered amid plaster
circular in bars
in a catalan exam