2 Jul

I recently went on a trip to Salamanca, Spain. It was amazing, especially considering that I’ve never actually been to Spain before (so I was glad to find out that it was a real language when I arrived, and not just some huge conspiracy). Upon my return, I did what I always do, and wrote a poem, as well as editing my myriad of pictures. So here you go.


Cream stone, tarnished and

The scent of stale smoke slipping

Under bar doors, through cracks in

Walls. Flowing into shops

Dark with years of secrets

And poisoned sugar varnishing floors.

Men shouting at screens, hung

On the walls of these bars. Outside

The streets are alight, alive

With people and light and life, released

After so many years. Babbling,

A river woven through air

Of clicks and long vowels

And breathy greetings. The

Fire and spice of life in every word;


With the cold and barren

Convents on every street.

Locked away, through choice, calling,


But beneath the heat life spice

A silence. Things unsaid

But never forgotten. A death,

A hole, a pact.

Vive España en mi memoria.



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