(no subject)
...and i salsa my way down some stairs in the parc guëll. i´m convinced that gaudi knew this place would make people need to dance. and so i do. earphones seeping underground havana tunes. a fine grey dusting on my toes. crunch of terracotta dirt, and shuffle of uno-dos-trei as my havaianas kick and slide. patterns of shadow keep me far from sensible, each leaf´s shade begging to be skirted as i guide my dancing feet into the sunlight. i feel like Baby dancing on the bridge in Dirty Dancing. that repeated sequence over and over. i chuckle and hold this familiarity to myself. the sun will be here for hours. warm warm warm, nudging at that place just beneath the skin. time is here just waiting for either the stairs or the sun to run out. i am not ready for either.