We cosied up to eachother in
European buses and craft beer bars.
We took snow-freckled paths around
the city, and the rain spat its lovely
juices at us in Barcelona – wet and
wintery, I hoped it would never end.
Then we sidled up to one another
within the chalk-coloured walls of a
boutique b&b. They threw in a hot tub
and we threw off our clothes.
Dancing streets, bustling beer bars
and the dimlit lights of taxis and
tourists swarm around us. Protests
were staged, and I felt awkward
watching… I’ve never fought for
anything before and I guess that’s a
good thing.
talking to my pillow. 