These last three days have seemed dreamlike. Spring has settled in and I find myself drifting through local streets, the air feeling so soft that at moments I experience the sensation of floating, feet barely touching the sidewalk. The swifts have arrived in force with the turning of the weather, and their calls are in the background almost continuously from sun-up to sundown. A friend said yesterday evening that this is the season when Madrid becomes Madrid again, life opening out and returning to the street after the turning inward of the winter months. Not that life here ever fully turns inward, except on mornings after a hard night of partying in the barrio. And that's just a brief pause, a few hours' collapse to catch up on sleep. But I know what she meant.
Buskers and musicians are about, tables and chairs host chatting customers outside cafes and restaurants, streetside trees get ever greener. It's lovely.
Last night the leader of the political opposition here spent two hours fielding questions from citizens on TV, apparently achieving his objective of coming across more sympathetically than he has during the three years since the bombings, though without actually answering any questions. I avoided it, choosing to enjoy the evening instead. Got a few restless hours of shuteye and now find myself at the end of another week, wondering how the days manage to evaporate the way they do.
On to the morning.
España, te quiero.
rws 4:14 AM [+]
Comments:
I read but rarely comment....beautiful writing. I wonder what you do to be able to live like this, floating on air like life, ..... I imagine you write.
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