I am slowly blending in. Just now I was sitting on my tiny balcony in my found clothes, clothes that have been worn by Barcelona citizens. I was drinking coffee, looking at the people walking by in the small street I live in. A tourist stopped to look up and she took a photo of me sitting on my balcony. A typical Spanish scenery, she must have thought. If only she knew.
Still, when people ask me where I am living I tell them “here”, “here in Barcelona”. I haven’t been here long but I am nowhere else. I don’t live anywhere else. I live here. I don’t speak the language, neither Catalan nor Spanish but 70% of communication is body language anyway.
The best exercise in being here is to just be here. I wrote little lately but I’ve been using my feet. I walked and danced. I stepped on some toes. I tiptoed. I jumped. I stood still.
This city has been good to me. I am starting to feel sad about leaving. But leaving also means you can return.