Sell the monkey, boys! Sell the monkey!*

Things I saw/heard walking home tonight:

“Hola guapa.”
“Hola _____.”
“Hello there.”
Many variations of the hot hissing sound men make that causes me to quiver to my very core and wish to become their slave forever because it is so seductive and powerful.

A beer seller asking if I wanted to buy a beer and then offering me “something else.”

One of the largest prostitutes I have ever seen. He/she could give Tyson a run for his money.

Wet streets: BCNeta, piss, beer, blood, an oil spill.

Trash in the streets: Beer cans, bottles, crusty pizza boxes, voided metro cards, empty sugar packets.

‘Life’ in the streets: A cockroach flapping its wings while trying to get off its back, a man jogging, a dead parrot curled up in the corner of a building.

Police ticketing beer sellers while prostitutes loitered nonchalantly nearby.

A bicing brazenly parked outside a restaurant.

A flower seller asking me if I wanted to buy a rose, “regalo?”

Never know whose thoughts you're chewing.*

Here I am, in my on room on La Rambla, with my new camera, wearing a fan on my head. !!Note of warning!! I will have very little overt organization to these musings, please bear with me. Also, please note that all lines with an * are quotes from Ulysses.