So I fell in love with Barcelona and saw my future laid out before me like a rather pleasing display of Nigiri-zushi ...amazingly portentous stuff. As I wandered the streets taking in the sights, the smells, the grit, the beauty. This beautiful urban crumble could not fail to both captivate and provoke. I am of course talking about the oldest southern parts of the city... The underbelly that consumes the powerfully devicive side streets and alleyways. The cultural danger of El Ravel... the ancient squares and quarters of Barri Gótic and La Ribera, the dense brown earthy sandland that is La Barcloneta, which literally breathes the hot aromatic air of relaxed mediterranean chaos into your central nervous system whether you like it or not... and delivers you breathless to the brutality of the toilet. That's right I was fucking excited and still am. I had a hardon for my entire stay. The latin way of life seems very exciting and exotic through the eyes of this pasty sensualist wannabe... The strange thing is that I can see myself wandering these dusty narrow streets, or shuffling down to the gloriously industrial Barceloneta beach when I'm in my 70's.... totally relocated, safe and sound, hermetically sealed in the lens of my camera... taking photographs, being touched by bliss. And of course there is the compellingly brusque lyricism of the Spanish language.
My conversion is total.
All of these incredibly beautiful Barcelona photographs were taken by Crisis Deepens
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