Stories tagged spain

Europa

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The sink spat its water in a most erratic and vindictive fashion, with varying temperatures of discomfort and a nefariously mechanical nonchalance. Her arms are elbow deep in the misbehaving appliance, it looked to us as if she was drowning a small rodent

El Funcionario

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The man looks into the round face and tiny eyes of the lawyer and sees a brown pig. He wants to smack the son of a bitch and carve him up with the letter opener on the desk like a leg of Jamon Iberico.

The Sound of Barcelona

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There’s no obvious difference between two years ago and now but it’s not the moment to contemplate the reason for the racket or why it took so long. Instead, it’s the time to renounce atheism and thank God that the noise has finally finished

The Witch from Bilbao

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I remember the first time I saw her. I'd just pushed through the crowded bar and waited to place my order.

The Diada Conspiracy

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The plan had been almost four hundred years in the making, ever since that fateful September 11th in 1714 when Barcelona fell to the Bourbon army who had been laying siege at its city walls.

Lost Sister

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She looks exactly like my sister, though I do not have a sister.

Now

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‘Miguel! A pint of Guinness, please!' I might as well have asked for his mother's immortal soul. A smile as benign as a stiletto. But he served a clean and tidy pint.

Coffee in Huesca

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In a small café in a stone building in a row of stone buildings, Marie was alone besides the barista.

Touch

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Reading for a crowd one evening I felt/ the women’s eyes kissing my temples and/ neck, sucking my earlobes and lower lip.

The Juniper Days - Part I

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She stepped into the spotlight like a butterfly released from its cocoon. Her dyed hair burnt like a flame, her eyes remained theatrically downcast as the music built to its crescendo. I knew something memorable was imminent.

The Juniper Days – Part II, The Diary

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12th August: I have yet to tire of Madrid. Some come and go but there is always a group of the best people to dance and drink and flirt with. (I can frequently accomplish all three simultaneously.)

The Juniper Days – Part III

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I flew to Madrid. Though, at the time, it felt like standing still. Nothing happened quickly enough the second after I had read that journal entry.

Six Tiny Memories

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I took a lover on Ibiza either because he was clean-smelling or because he had a hotel room and there were none to be had.

When I Was Like Pavlov's Rat

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His heart belonged to another, he had told me early on, a tall, beautiful girl from Madrid. He showed me her photo, while grinning at the thought of her. Her eyes were the shape of jewels and her body was a present I was sure would keep on giving. My rat

Mexican Audio

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Chromio citrio sticky-floored furio...