Xucla and I are chilling on the balcony.
Well, it's not really a balcony as such. It's more like a space for the washing machine, the crap that has nowhere else to go, and where we hang the laundry from. Two huge windows that open (with much force) and with a view that reminds me of the Middle East. The backside of the city. The one i prefer. Far from the pretty fake front. Here Xucla has her blanket on top of the washing machine, and she sits shaking with desire to chase all the cats living out there, on the roof of the Verdi cinema. When a bird flies by, she follows it with her eyes for as long as she can, until it disappears out of sight, from on top of the secondhand washing machine bought in Raval. The sun is on its way down, and its coloring the Middle Eastern structures with a golden glow. The wind is no longer cold and the spring is whispering secrets of summer.
Living the dream. Kundalini Yoga, writing, chatting to crazy people in the street. Chasing other dogs. Looking at cats. Looovely... Life, thank you. Moltes Gracies, as they say in Catalan. Amore!