Having a look in the bus and I was the only one wearing the belt. Curious. Just in front of our stomach (or our breasts, depending on how tall you are) we have that blue&white imperative or perhaps suggesting picture.
The insurance atmosphere is running against me, countdown; a phone number that follows an 0044, a five and a half hours trip, the Llucia Ramis' book next to me, a fat luggage that couldn't be closed without sitting on it. Looking forward to the telling-weekend-stories-time in Madrid.
Last night: warm hugs saying bye bye and seeking North-West directions.
At home: mom, dad and brother.
On the iPod: Els Amics de les Arts.
For tomorrow: a welcome business lunch.
Now: three and a half hours left. Almost one hundred and two litters of beer in the kitchen.