far too much writing, far too many photos

Woke up early this morning, somewhere around 5 a.m., with music from Dr. Horrible streaming perkily through my sleepy brain. From that point on, I drifted between sleep and barely-awakeness, dreaming about being in a Dr. Horrible sequel. (And how bitchen would that be?) The dreams about the sequel actually featured original music, featuring some pretty respectable tunes.. Sometimes my subconscious kicks ass.

I made no effort to remember original music on waking, so it’s all gone. The tunes from the original musical continue cycling through my teeny brain though, a soundtrack that has given this Tuesday a whole different feel from the garden variety weekday.

I have been astonished at the extremely high percentage of people I see lately wearing headsets in the street, in the Metro, on buses — most listening to music, some blathering away in phone conversations. The latter make it much more difficult to tell who is a genuine self-talker (another contingent well-represented in recent days) and who is conversing with unseen individuals. Now that phone reception is possible in the Metro — underground, between stations — more and more people seem to be inflicting their private chats on the rest of us. Often not my idea of a great time. Ah, well. Provides motivation for bringing reading materials to lose oneself in.

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Today, looking up at the Ministerio de la Presidencia — Madrid:

EspaƱa, te amo.

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