It seems sleep no longer entertains me. I am unsettled. I have always had a Desire for something Latin....Something from a country where Spanish is what leaves their lips. A Passion for that desire fires my body when it wants to rest. Once head meets pillow, wide eyes awake my fantasies play to me amongst the velvet nothingness. Jealousy burns at what my mind trails to. Anger that my fantasy is not my reality. Then Betrayal that i have not fulfilled this need. Jealousy of your fantasies only drives you mad. Almost like a Tango.
My Weakness for tonight is Barcelona....I was told of her Bohemia by an old Spaniard at a cafe. His English laced darkly by that hint of Spanish. I sat as he filled my head with dangerous thoughts of his home across the seas. My heart raced as he mentioned her streets, the smell of her, her taste, her beauty, her feel, the way she caresses all of your sorrows, the desires she fulfills, the hold she has on you, her mysteriously dark captivation...."she only ever reveals to you what she wants you to know, she will hide every one of her secrets and make you delve into the deep to find them". Barcelona. You have found yet another lover.
The tales of Barcelona murdered time itself, the hours i had not seen slip away as the stories continued. Reality seemed so distant, from the melodic English tainted Spanish, cigarettes, ash trays and coffee. Warning me of men and guitars......"always marry or be with a man who plays the guitar, his fingertips will be ruff, his hands not soft to hold, but he will know how to hold you, how to stir you up and he will be beside you.A man with passion and a guitar has only room for one relationship and that is with his guitar..for him it is as thou you are his guitar. ."
His words still enthrall me. So punctual so Passionate, filled with so much amour.My heart and head crave Barcelona, Everything whispers to me Barcelona......
I will find it in Barcelona whatever it is that i am searching for he said i will find it in Barcelona.
