Diario de Madrid: Junio 2005: La mejor memoria

Anyway, I was going to write about the best day in recent memory. It was last Sunday, when Emelie woke me from some drunk haze, at one in the afteroon to demand my company. We met at Tirso de Molino metro and strolled by The Rastro flea market arm in arm, where the smell of rancid clothes and sweat and skin swayed up into the bright blue sky. We sat and drank canas and spoke about the world and all that we wish to do with it. Emelie made some great quotes, that I, like a fool, cannot remember now, then we walked some more and ate some tapas in the dry afternoon air. I took a picture of her by the new theatre sign in the dusty square. She told me about some of her old loves and we laughed about her debauchery and daring and living. No one we know does these kinds of things. Her friends think that she is enlightened. Some others may think that she is a nymphomaniac but I think she is just brilliant.

And so we went to the park and a load of people were there playing and pounding the drums and I felt free like I have never felt before and suddenly I had to go and I had drank far too much Pimms and the new guy from Rhode Island said that he would call me and I said hey do that and we all staggered out of the park, under the underpass, with my head so calm and clear and happy. I skimmed the low ceiling with my fingers and thought that I should remember that exact moment, that exact happiness.