"Every fallen angel prays for a second chance to fly again. And over time these tired wings have given in to the same old sins.
You're the only one who makes me feel like I could ever fly again."

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Writings by a Fountain

Last night I went for a walk and wanted to write. Since I'm still in this towns nd today I haven't yet left my hostel (waiting for laundry to dry) here is a little of what happens in my head. 

Estoy casa enfermo. Sitting in a Spanish plaza I listen to my music, headphones in my ears, looking at the starless night sky. I enjoy the sound of nothing but the glacier-like waterfall that reminds me of the river back home. Except where the water back home is fresh and twists and winds through the valley, past farms and under bridges, this waterfall is in the middle of the town and the water just continues to be turned on or off depending on the time of day. Many tourists walk by and take photos of it; I'm not sure if they are all tourists, my friends and I take pictures with tourist attractions back home all the time. I get the feeling that there is something happening in this town. First, there was some festival yesterday and now at the chapel behind this waterfall there are a lot of black shiny cars and people in suits and police and guards. I wonder if there is a president or some sort of importance in town. A police van is driving through the courtyard. Two in fact. This is very odd indeed. 
This is one of those nights where I wish I had a pack of cigarettes and a table in the corner of the world. I would sit and watch the going ons around me and eventually somebody would come ask me what I'm looking at and id tell them "everything." 
I want to ask someone what's happening. "¿QuĆ© pasa? Y puede hablas dispaciĆ³, por favor." And could you speak slowly please. But I know id still only understand a word or two and id have to piece together things with my own imagination. You know, sometimes I wish I didn't have to imagine. That life was just so brilliant and adventurous that I was to busy enjoying it to imagine something better. Something better could not be imagined.
I have been going to bed early since I've been here, 8 or 9. That's when the Spanish people eat dinner though and now at 7:30 there are far more people out and about than I expected. People walking out of churches and restaurants, children running and looking for their parents, tourists taking pictures of themselves in typical tourist poses - peace sign; falling; with food. This new language swirls around me and I grasp to understand even a word; but, one word streams into the second without a hint of a breath and I lose any understanding of the conversation I was hearing. 
And that's where typing my thoughts ended as my fingers became frozen. Now I'm going to continue waiting for laundry to dry. It's about as much fun as watching pain dry. :/ Madrid soon. Can't wait! 

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