I am in the library at the facultad writing my essay on Lorca's La casa de Bernarda Alba. I wish it would just write itself, as I have no motivation to do it. At least I am sitting in front of a big window and I can look outside and see the Coca-Cola building that overlooks Plaça Universitat on the Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes. There aren't a lot of people in here in the library, or at the faculty, because mostly everyone has cleared out for the holidays. I hear the rain gently falling outside, and it would be completely peaceful if it wasn't for the ambulances that parade down the Gran Via every few hours. Oh, the woes of living in a metropolis.
Nonetheless, I like just hanging around Barcelona when I have nothing to do (except that I have a lot to do in terms of essays and reading). It's been around 37 degrees and rainy here. The chill snaps you in the ass when you're walking, you're hands are constantly wet from holding your damn umbrella, and my apartment is so chilly that I have to pile on layers of clothes and stand by the stove every now and then to reignite some of my own body heat. All the same, I enjoy it. I'll be in France in a few days where I'll experience the type of cold that I'm supposed to be "used to" from living in Illinois. Well let me tell you something, being cold is never something that you ever really get "used to," but it's something that you get better at handling, I suppose. Anyway, back to the essay... That is, if I can focus.
Right now I just want to see Paris under the snow.
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