A prodigal comes home

Thunderstorms over Madrid tonight.  It was a grey day, with thick, smoke-colored clouds hanging low, touching the tops of the massive dwellings.  It was the kind of day that made me realize how much I missed and needed the rain, the reminder that nature exists beyond spotless, blindingly blue skies.  The rain breathed new life back into stifling, stagnant air. Continue reading “A prodigal comes home”


Every night before 8 it starts.  The noise penetrates my bedroom window.  The sound of a thousand hoof beats or maybe the beginnings of a wild street party born of defiance.  But by now, I recognize the call and I join automatically, almost as if I don’t have a choice. Continue reading “Lines”