I leaned over the balcony. Outside the air is light, sea air, despite the heat of late August. Below me lies the park de la Ciutadella, with its palm trees, its gardens, its halls of the century. The zoo that the darkness lifts its chorus of screams and verse.
To my right stands the Tibidabo on the horizon, such as flaming lava rock, huge sculpture of amber. At his feet the city slips into the sea. A solid cast stone and glass that a personal signature of artificial light to vibrate in the night.
I see the big crack in the Diagonal, going up to get lost between buildings, up to the area of \u200b\u200bexposure. La Meridiana. A cut on the horizon Mont Juice, the Catalan Olympic Gabicce. Before me, the Barri Gotic, Raval and deeper. L'Eixample.
My eyes lose the details of what I know, that sulfur lost in the aura surrounding the city at night, the cloud of vapor that hovers over the roofs and streets like a film noir.
And while behind me there's the aroma of a meal with fish and red martini I enjoy your beauty, as something beautiful and forever lost.
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