This is a sitting city.
This is a chatting city; a sipping and a nibbling sort of city.
Here, you find the corner shop and the coffee shop and you never order your drink plastic-ly “para llevar” because if you do you are a tourist and an inconvenience and in a western rush (guilty). Instead, you sit, and you chat, and you sip, and you nibble.
You use porcelain cups and steel forks, the clink of conversation mingling into the weekday midnight. You stroll, never stalk. You lazily hang out the windowsill, you have a siesta and fiesta when you just so feel like it. You dance in the street with your children on a summer evening, surrounded by pre-teens; you wear Neymar like its your “apellido” given at birth.
You celebrate the little and the big, you chant in-inde-independéncia but in a sing-song sort of way while you have a plaza-party on a Saturday.
Yes, its a painted picture; a fair facade of my two weeks exposure, so I promise, revisions are forthcoming.
P.S. – These pictures were all taken around 6 p.m. within a 3 minute walk from my current flat, in Vila De Gracia in Barcelona
P.P.S. – Is this my diary or my 5th grade pen pal? YOU GUYS ARE BOTH – Thank you so much to those of you reading this, and especially those of you that tell me (even white-lying) that you enjoy reading this. Its an inspiration and a motivation and all the -ation things! Party hat emojis for you all! Be back soon with more detailish things.