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Published: September 25th 2008
no place like home
you will find me if you want me in the garden, unless its pouring down with rain...and so I did, make it... home. yep.
it would take me bloody ages (as now Im used to say) to describe what it is like to be here once again, what it was and what it is now, where I stand compared to where I stood, and specially where I sit crossed-legs, which noisy side streets and kebab smelling squares. let's just say that granada is a city where nobody will look at you if you walk around barefeet, and that is something which I value the most. you should know. and what else is granada?
granada is also a memories factory and a dreams processing plant, which makes it a pulsating heart without arterias pouring bloody life at its night beat to turn the world into strawberry fields foreva.
granada was lost and found, and has been lost again and found for the last time. by the arabs, but me too.
granada is the world capital of urban western chill and sarcastic love, which is a good thing and also bad thing, depends on your mood really.
granada is beautiful under every aesthetic and spiritual definition of the word, and is alive by the people who love
q-theory
you never really knew the alhambra had a back cause you always saw it from "san nicolás". well, here's the proof that such a back exists... it, and I'm sorry for the ones that want to love it because it is not the same when you have to think about how to feel than when you just feel.
granada is where they all are. around the world too, but in granada more, no matter where they are you know who you are.
granada is dirty real, its cafes and bars are so ugly, its street markets so not charming, its graffittis so magnificent, that you really gotta love that dirt.
granada is fun as a good friday in hell, and cheap as morrocco will be in a few years. now,
isn't-that-cool! granada sleeps during the daytime, but lives thirty two hours in its eight dark ones.
granada is the africa of europe, meaning it might not be for everybody, but it is definetly for me.
granada is a little village around a big castle to which you get through tiny allies once you make it past the almost, but never ever, dry river darro that used to bring us gold and now brings us cold air in the summer time.
granada is memory, dream is memory, and my memories are my life in granada.
granada is
graffitti
so apparently in the last years el niño has painted all over "el realejo", check his art at www.elninodelaspinturas.com the dreamy living memory of a tree's mind.
granada is granada is granada is granada, fuck the roses.
so done with the city, we should talk about the people, shouldn't we? but the people don't matter much, because if you really felt far from them, you didn't really cared. and if they felt close all the time, you didn't really miss them. which is another way of saying that I don't want to write that much anymore.
and at last we should talk about the weather. it wasn't sunny all the time, but it was fairly dry besides some electricity last monday. specially the sky looks huge this time of the year, with all the space of a summer empty canvas and all the depth of the clouds. granada's autumn skies always gave me the delightful feeling of being one feet shorter, and I'm very glad they still do.
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vittoria
non-member comment
beautiful...