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To us (part 3)

A sunny winter day on the very edge of Europe. Coffee on the table in a cup from Barcelona, I am waiting for the lesson, to which a teacher is pretty late. I want to look in the window and reflect (the view is beautiful – mountains and forest – almost not spoiled by buildings). I put on the soundtrack with the name “morning jazz” and plunge into the atmosphere of a Sunday morning. 

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To us (part 2)

Sun is rising over our house, and somewhere at the opposite side of the globe is coming the evening. Rays of the dawn slowly glide along the rough walls of old buildings and obstinately make their way through narrow cracks in wooden shutters. Inevitably they enter the room, expanding and growing, gaining and absorbing the power of their creator, the sun. Life begins on the streets of the city. Newspapers, morning coffee and a smell of gasoline are becoming essential attributes of a morning routine. Fruit markets are opening their doors to everyone who wants to have a daily dose of vitamin burlesque recharged.

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To us (Catalonia)

One day I will go to Catalonia. Yes, yes, some late evening on my 21st spring I will catch up the plane and fly away from this strange familiar city. I’ll fly away forever. Will fly to you. Forever to you.

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