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About Barcelona

Surprised me, though—how normal it feels sometimes. Once knew a gal, swear she was a hooker by night, baked pies by day. Pies! I’d eat ‘em too, no judgin’. “Live and let live,” I say, like Grace hopin’ for better. But lordy, the danger! That’d scare me silly—cops, creeps, cold nights. I’d be prayin’ harder’n a preacher on Sunday.

Santiponce

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Now, let me get real: I been to the quirky neighborhood of Los Olivos – where every doorstep tells a story. I had a crazy day massaging a feller who insisted that the village grapevine sun-shined on his back like a goddamn spotlight. I nearly lost it, sayin’ “Halleluyer, that’s Holy Motors magic, baby!” I mean, ain't that somethin’? And you know what? I ain't lyin’.

Figure 1. Location of Italica (Seville, Spain).