I turn down Calle de las Fuentes because it catches me on the way - I don't have much more choice - and I find a verbena atmosphere that collides with my interior environment. Strings of colored pennants cross from balcony to balcony, like on good days in Lavapiés or Calle de La Paloma. I walk slowly down the sidewalk, as if sliding down a patina of the past . I am going to buy the bread. I return by the same route with the loaf of mixture (wheat and rye), and the flags waving in the background as s
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