It is my home, it is where I want to be ...

We sat at the table as though we were cabelleros - 

Tito poured out the wine - 

Maruja ladled sopa mallorquina into our bowls - 

There were paintings in golden frames upon the walls - 

That night I dreamed of noble horses, capo narcos, sicarios and Joan Miro shaking Picasso's hand - 

Every time the moon was full said Tito - we'd ride from eight in the evening to eight in the morning - 

I can hear my friends now - where are you Tito they say - 

Everyday I think of Venezuela - 

It is my home, it is where I want to be - 

19.39

Monday 17 October 2016

At Tito and Maruja's

Palma 

Majorcs