That's Barcelona with a "th"

Life as a grad student in Barcelona, travel pics, etc.

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"Whose strokes make time sway on its gold watch chain?"

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To Summer O Thou who passest thro’ our vallies in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer, Oft pitched’st here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy, thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair. Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car Rode o’er the deep of heaven; beside our springs Sit down, and in our mossy vallies, on Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream: Our vallies love the Summer in his pride. Our bards are fam’d who strike the silver wire: Our youth are bolder than the southern swains: Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance: We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy, Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven, Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat. -William Blake

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Geez.

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Winter in Spain.

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Fall, leaves, fall Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day.

EMILY BRONTË

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Tarragona time.

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Best dog ever.

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Beautiful Cadaques

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TBT on a Sunday. Happy birthday to my love! Best nephew ever. <3

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If you were coming in the fall

If you were coming in the fall, I ’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spurn, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year, I ’d wind the months in balls, And put them each in separate drawers, Until their time befalls. If only centuries delayed, I ’d count them on my hand, Subtracting till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen’s land. If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I ’d toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity. But now, all ignorant of the length Of time’s uncertain wing, It goads me, like the goblin bee, That will not state its sting. Emily Dickinson

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I was not the first to be obsessed with Italian Greyhounds. 

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Calendimaggio Festival

Assisi, Umbria, Italy

May, 2011

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Barcelona. Tapas. My life.

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Gorgeous San Diego. 

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"...if a traveller gives any quality which he may have observed in a few individuals as a characteristic of a nation, the evil is not speedily or easily remediable. Abject thinkers, passive readers, adopt his words; parents repeat them to their children; and townspeople spread the judgment into the villages and hamlets--the strongholds of prejudice; future travellers see according to the prepossessions given them, and add their testimony to the error, till it becomes the work of a century to reverse a hasty generalization."

Harriet Martineau, "How to Observe Morals and Manners"

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Castle at night? Cool.