The streets in Barcelona are packed with people all night. Narrow back alleys in Barri Gòtic used to be streets of carpenters, pottery makers or butchers. Now it’s a mix of hip cocktail bars, the usual tourist junk shops, restaurants, cafés and clubs. The lifestyle is “staying out”, very mellow and sociable. The deeper into the back alleys you get, the longer it is between street lights. Fleeting movements in the darkness, appealing somatic looks behind pillars, in doorways, figures that disappears and becomes one with the darkness. Everything is for sale for needles in the skin and dead eyes. Many curled up with plastic bags and blankets. The body keeps warm, but the soul of the eye is frozen. The darkness lets go and the alley relinquishes onto a lit up plaza with a big fountain in the middle, restaurants and cafés around the facades. Acrobatic street performers rotates and kicks in the air at every angel. Gypsies with roses. Cleavages, high heels, hair, legs moves across the plaza. It awakens my sleepy longing for rhythm, flesh and warm throbbing blood. We make a pit stop at an absinthe bar. Ready and open for the night. We reach the club and dance and sweat with hundreds of others, floating away and are gradually released from our bodies and become one particle, one wave, one corpus and reappear behind the game, dance, disguise, mask and return with the insight of multiple faces…becomes everybody, nobody and discovers forgotten islands of thoughts where everything is returned a thousand fold in the clearest light. Rhythm, bodies, eyes.
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