Not the city girl u expected

I ride through this promenade full of floral patterns

My hair dances every time cars pass, yellow traffic lights, bright noise.

I think about the first time I was happy in this city and it was not so long ago:

The memory deceives me, it distances everything from the present moment,

The smell of emptiness in the capital is sometimes overwhelming.

When I get home I light a candle to remind me that I own a home.

I spend many hours in silence, reading ads as I walk and

I sink into my thoughts as I sink into my pillow.

I trust them both.

I'm not the city girl you expected

I enjoy the nights at the viewpoint watching how the hustle is drunk,

I enjoy the days on a peaceless beach,

When it rains I rub my hands with the only clean water really sold.

There are days that I don't talk to anyone and I think a lot about mine.

And I am mourning.

In each place in the center I have deposited a memory with a loved one:

The Heineken in Manchester with that red light

The theater of La Rubia with my soul friends,

while my bewildered mind became nervous,

Kisses in the gothic quarter in portals, restaurant fronts, under the bridges.

Talks about sexual orientation in Felip Neri Square

A reunion at the Tibidabo viewpoint...

My tears and the utter desolation in front of the Cathedral

and that laugh as we left Santa Maria del Mar.

The futile tears split everytime I get back.

I'm not the city girl you expected:

I hate public transport and have to pretend indifference,

I do not move in massive events and I have crossed out many sites "to visit" for laziness.

I have spent much more money on coffee than buying books

but there are days when I have sat down to write

And I've been a reason for bohemian entertainment...

For the disgusting tourists who don't understand what it is to enrich the inner world.

I have stopped to speak in the middle of the street with whom I thought needed it

and I have fled from who took advantage of my free time,

I'm not the city girl you expected,

I always miss my house, Grandma's white sheets,

sleeping with freshly shaved legs and having breakfast with that french jam ...

I've searched for love online and have been twice alone

I've fallen in love on the street, going through a passionate arrow,

this city broke my heart several times though I am persistent.

I still walk in her streets, seeking for happiness,

but I only remember

those memories that are unreal.