During J's illness, G made friends with the local pharmacists and barmen and women. On their last morning in Madrid, as we walked to the corner cafetería for a final café con leche, G said hello to several of them when they shouted their good mornings.
This is the fine looking couple that J and G had to look at through that lunch at Oliver.
So J and G went back to the Hostal Armesto to rest and recuperate, and S and A went for a walk through Chueca. We were impressed by the floating discs in the Plaza de Chueca. We saw a novenary of snowflakes fall. Ten kilometers outside of Madrid, it was snowing hard.
Discs.
A playground. Those are just such nice colors.
Good graffiti, too. That there is what we call a trompe l'oeil.
An all too close look at the sabbati-beard. We still believe in the redemptive power of the well-groomed moustache, but we are now coming to embrace the power and charm of the dense beard.
2 comments:
Okay. I guess we didn't discuss the consequences of violating the no-big-words rule. I'll fax you a copy for your records.
Um. Yeah. We got the TPS report, and it won't be a problem. Our editorial staff has been put on probation for allowing excessive fanciness.
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