In a previous post talked about how the sub-city-those who walk many people as we tucked into the metro-is transformed to the extent proceeds travel. Today I want to refer to the reverse journey and have to blow possibly unconnected images and reflections, the blank looks that inspire me this piece of city.
right outside my office is a building whose facade is of a type of glass during the day

I get to the corner and look Bicing stop, a bike rental system that on paper is ideal for a city like Barcelona, \u200b\u200bbut in my reality a lost opportunity. Took about four months without access to this service because the stations are always empty. This can be evidence of its success or demonstration of the lack of foresight. It all depends.
As I have no illusions in the hope you get a bicycle, I walk and drive through a very large park. I think of the fortune they have children around the park, because in the middle of Barcelona have a space like this is a privilege. However, while I think about it, I see a sign saying that there is forbidden to play
In the corner of the park is a newsstand and I stop my correspondent for "uninformed" reading only the headlines. Leo Henry, the famous French player of Barcelona, \u200b\u200bsaid that "Catalonia is not Spain and that has to feel it" and understand the joy of those who have taken as their slogan of political struggle this difference: famous alien had understood his position. Good for them. But I can not help wondering if perhaps I had not said the same of another region where, for mainly economic reasons, was playing. I think all the sites are so radically different from the others, that to know is to sit down, and vice versa. Sometimes I get the impression that for some people to be Catalan is just be a fan of Barcelona, \u200b\u200bCatalunya want independence and have the sole language of Catalan. However, I am increasingly convinced that this is just a way to be Catalan and possibly a way that leaves out many other things that can be as valuable or even more.
Next to Henry's headline, I read in big yellow letters on red background-are-not who asked his son to do paternity testing, believing that the son of his daughter, ie his own grandson, not his. In another journal I see that the couple took the tests and, yes, but a son is his; end of history: grandmother and child happy, mother's ex-suspect. Besides these two stories I hear, yet again, that one member of the Catalan government disagrees with the other two (the current government is formed by a coalition of three parties: a separatist, an ecologist and a socialist) . Perhaps this is one of those cases where democracy and tolerance do not mean to rule together with different parties, but simply as different parties attempt to preserve their share of power at all costs.
Finally, I leave the newsstand and I head to the city's most curious of my journey: in the corner there is a real estate agency specializing in luxury homes, then an Italian restaurant and a clothing store and then extreme sports a brothel. Yes, just as if nothing, a brothel in the middle of a residential and living with shops of all kinds.

Just after residential and commercial area, there is a street where there are many offices and teeming with the Audi, Mercedes and Porsche late model. Although I am not very fond of this theme, it makes me curious to see inside these cars. Weird things always see: the

From this point to my bus stop, everything is less strange, or at least after seven years so it seems: the streets are clean and mostly adapted for the blind, disabled or indirectly, to parents who go with their baby strollers along the platforms, people respect the pedestrian crossing and cars the traffic lights at the bus stop, and although there is no bus, we all queue waiting to arrive, without having to worry about if someone comes to steal.
While I wait patiently for the bus leaves on time, I'm glad I'm in a city of its size and diversity seems to be made to be walked, and by its diversity, to be enjoyed.
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