heartbroken

la rambla.

palm trees swaying in the breeze, muddy waves lapping gently at the shore, the tyres from last nights cleaning trucks criss-crossing the sand, new buildings, old buildings all with balconies and views to the sea, ancient cars (how are they still running?) cruising lazily by, a couple of painters hoisting themselves up the side of a tall building with an ancient manual pulley mechanism (no automatic lifts here, no sir), everybody dressed in no clothes at all.

women running with their dogs, young children with bicycles, a gaggle of teenagers burning the bizcochos away with a brisk jog, brazilians playing beach football, tanned guys showing off their stuff, old couples drinking mate on a bench, a sprightly aerobics teacher encouraging a random group to jump to the beat on the beach.

an endless stream of topless middle-aged guys proudly displaying the bronzed scars of their latest bypass surgery, screaming from their chests "still here, still walking, still basking in the stolen sun".

and a girl taking pictures she won´t use, watching it all and smiling to herself.