Maggie Scratch in Barcelona Today with the Goldfish

goldfish

There is so much sun and blue sky these days that it’s scary. Where’s the rain? Where’s the water? I hear the polar bears are drowning, can’t cross the ice, it’s melting, it’s watery, there is no ice! There are plenty of photos of Frank Gehry’s Goldfish and many of them are better than mine, but this is the point: I took this. I was there, at the port, under the blue sky, feeling the warmth, soaking up the sea, forgetting about the tourists, and trying not to get upset at the abundance of police. I mean you don’t really see them if you’re not me. But I see them everywhere when I’m down at the port. They hang around on corners, in their cars, at the metro mouth, near the casino. Invisible? Impossible! In their bright yellow vests! Like Goldfish! As yellow! As obvious! As real! I was born ready for the boom to be lowered. I’m here, at the Puerto Olimpico where the Twin Towers are. I’m a sister. A friend.

I’m good.

I’m baaaaaaaaaadddd!!!

I’m a  non-dickhead soulmate to whoever I meet.

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