Have you ever been in that shady area that lies right between awareness and bliss, consciousness and drunkness? Two nights ago I was sweetly caressed by alcohol's soft touch.

My feet seemed to glide and slide on the slippery, rainy, bumpety sidewalks of the city. On my imagination, the blue scarf around my neck flew like a flag on a pole as I danced out of one bar and into the next one. Tapas here and there, some good Rioja, even sweeter Ribera de Duero, to end up with Riveiro on those white clay cups. Sipping, dreaming, laughing, melting... thanking the over crowed places, the bumping of people on my, their background conversations in a language that nurtures my thinking, sometimes drawn into so much English that pains me.

Everything was a mixture of tear-supression because I will only have this for as long as I live here, which is not much; laughter; wine; food; MADRID.