Homeless in Gerona, sleeping with Diables.

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I woke up in Barcelona on the morning of Friday the 28/10 after staying the night with my dear friend Melcior who is a professional actor and a sweet-hearted hilariously entertaining Catalan man.


I had been feeling for a few days the quiver in my heart that told me it was soon time to move on, after the wheel of time had perfectly put everything in it’s right place, i knew without a doubt that today was the day, and so i asked my heart:

“So where to now my friend?”

“Gerona.” She said with her sexy thick beating blood filled accent.


I had no idea how to get to Gerona, but that’s half of the fun!

I got to the train station that goes to Gerona and asked the man at the ticket booth if he spoke Ingles.

“Yes” He said, “A…B…C…!!!!”

“1…2…3…8!” I beamed back at him and stuck out my tongue.


On the train i was glad to see the smog of Barcelona (Crazy magic city) drift away and open up to the blue skies that are the delight of my eyes.

I got off the train, stashed my bag in a locker and went on my merry way into the streets of Gerona.


I half had the intention of finding a map, but after glancing around a few times i couldn’t find one and decided to just follow my feet (The best way to travel!).


I wandered around for a while guided by my curiosity and accidentally found myself drinking beer and eating a big lunch for 4 euros at a university bar that lay in the sun next to an ancient church that was built by the Romans a long long time ago.



University students sit in a big group at a bar drinking coffee, beer and smoking cigarettes, surrounded by buildings that were built centuries ago. Are they aware of the wonders of their surroundings?

Possibly not.

Just as I am accustomed to the great sweeping vistas of untouched natural environments in Australia, they are accustomed to the carefully built monuments that have stood through the ages in Gerona.

The scenes that we see everyday eventually become mundane, and the scenes that we have only seen in our dreams are the ones to which we want to run away to.


Maybe there is a switch in our brains, the one the traveler flicks on when they take their first steps on the road.

Maybe that switch can be flicked on every morning when we wake up, and so we awake with new eyes and see the sun rise as if for the first time.

Wouldn’t that be beautiful?


Wherever you are there is always something better far away, but once you reach that place you realise that where you once were, had beauties that don’t exist where you are now.

Imagine yourself in old age and three minutes away from death.

You will think to yourself:

“I wish I hadn’t taken it for granted.”


The remedy to this is to drink in the world with your eyes, your mind, your heart and your fingertips in the same way you would drink a gallon of wine with the intention of getting absolutely hammered.

Then you will stumble down your own streets exploding from astonishment, because one day, this here right now, will all be gone.


With that acceptance of the nature of life comes a sense of the utmost grief… but grief has a way of peeling back the curtains and exposing your naked body to drown under the scorching sun.



So drink up and drink deep! Let’s all get drunk together in the streets, vomiting in the gutters like reckless barbarians and weeping widows, until the sky comes crashing down!


Slightly dizzy from a few extra beers, i walked on again happily lost, past tourists who were bent over maps and frowning so hard i thought they might fall over dead where they stood.





New Age Hieroglyphics

(Shout out to Ana Palop!)

Again and again, i swam around corners and cartwheeled down streets to find again and again some of the most prettiest (Bonica) places on this Earth.



Learn how to totally follow your heart, she has eyes that can see through walls.



After hours of this, i sat down for about an hour, tired, and indecisive as to whether or not i should try and find a hostel.

I was caught between the urge to have a safe place secured for the night (mind), and not really feeling all that bothered to find one (heart).


20161028_144619738_ios– Finally, a church that worships the true GOD! –

As i sat there, between my head and my heart, a dangerous conversation with myself begins to take place in my mind between Rational Me (R.M.) and Magical Me (M.M):

R.M.: I have nowhere to sleep tonight, but I can’t really be bothered to look for one, but I’m really tired…. I should find somewhere to sleep… but I don’t really want to.

M.M.: KAPOW! Yahoo didgeridoo! Wassup my brother?!?! Yeah!


R.M.: Oh no! Not you again, please not now, I don’t have the strength today my friend. I just want to be safe and comfortable.

M.M.: Whoever said anything about not being safe and comfortable? KAFLOWA!

R.M.: Every single experience I have ever had with you is empirical evidence. Please stop spinning around and smiling at me like that. Not tonight.


– Shout out to all the rebels out there! –


M.M.: If not now then when? And smiling at you like what? Like life is fun?

R.M.: When I’m less tired. And Yes! Smiling at me like anything is possible. I’m exhausted!

M.M.: Oh come on bro! You’re always tired! And you’re in Girona! This night will never happen again! So lets dance on the rooftops and sing like tomorrow will never come! KABAM!


R.M.: I know I know! But sometimes you have to be realistic. Jesus Christ! Would you stop shaking your arse at the sunset!

M.M.: Why? Are you afraid you’re gonna laugh? Afraid you might have some fun? Afraid that you’ll feel like an empty shell tomorrow morning who is filled with the memories of a night that you will never forget for the rest of your life?


– We are the New Ancients –

R.M.: No I’m not afraid! For starters I’m going to need some kind of substance to wake up enough to even begin, I don’t know anyone here, and I don’t want to end up freezing my face off trying to sleep on a park bench somewhere!

M.M.: If you could have anything you want tonight, what would it be?

R.M.: No! I know where this is leading…

20161028_143724054_ios– Modern Hieroglyphics: “Bite The Kraken!” –


Salvador Dali? Is that you bro?

M.M: Come on man! It’s just a simple question, where’s the harm in it? Look, I’ll do you a deal, answer the question and then you can go on your merry way and find yourself a hostel or something… although, if you want to be ‘realistic’ about it, they are probably all booked out by now. So tell me, if you could have anything you want, what would it be?


R.M.: Alright I’ll answer it, but only if it’ll shut you up. Ok, if there was anything that I could have tonight, it would be to some substances that are free that would put me in a state of utter bliss. I would want to dance my legs off to some good music, to meet a beautiful woman, where we fall in love and she invites me back to her place where I do end up sleeping in a warm comfortable bed. That would be awesome.


M.M.: Woowee! That is one absolutely gorgeous request my bro! Now we’re talkin’ ! So… do you remember the King of Barcelona? (Check out my blog post ‘The King of Barcelona’ if you haven’t already)

R.M.: Of course I do.

M.M.: Well what was the wisdom that he showed you?

R.M.: That I can have anything I want, that all I have to do is make it so.


M.M.: Exactly! Did you believe him?

R.M.: Absolutely! He was living proof of the words that he preached!

M.M.: And how was it that he went about it all?

R.M.: He totally believed it and he laughed all the time with pure joy, he was totally carefree.

M.M.: Soooo… with that in mind, who are you going to be tonight?

R.M.: Awww fuck it, ok. I am The King of Gerona!


M.M.: Yes! That’s it! Believe it absolutely and it shall be! Wahoo! Now, let’s go have some fun! Kasploosh!



See this face? This is the face of someone who is celebrating already what they have not yet experienced, but what they want to experience. One of the secrets of manifestation. Just like any other secret, you should accidentally spill the beans to everyone that you know.

So, deciding to go with Magical Me despite Rational Me’s attempts to claw at the inside of my imagination, i went back to the locker where my bag was stashed and put on a fresh change of clothes, although by now all of my clothes reeked of sweat.

I flipped a coin as to whether or not i should take a jacket, because sometimes i just end up carrying my jacket around and wishing i had left it behind.

The coin showed heads and said “DITCH THE JACKET!”, again Rational Me screamed “YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY!”, but i decided to be crazy tonight and left my jacket behind wearing only a thin jumper.

If only i knew how much i would regret it at times tonight, but it brought me situations that would have never happened otherwise.

Sometimes along the road to Heaven, we suffer a little along the way.


Choose your numbers wisely. 3, it’s the magic number!

I head back outside, where its getting dark, and swagger back through the streets where i got lost for about an hour, because the northern hemisphere flips my sense of direction right up on it’s head.


Bona nit, Gerona

Eventually i find my way back to the ancient quarter where i had been earlier on in the day, where i can feel that the party is about to begin (Call it an 8th sense).

Spying a crowd from around a corner i spear headlong into the centre and am delighted to have the chance again to see the almighty Catalan sport of Castellers (Forgive me Catalunya if I’ve spelt it wrong).


Castellers is a fascinating sport. It’s uniquely Catalan.

Where a huge team of people work together to create a human tower.

They wrap cloth around their waists, which i think is something called a “haish”, and they work as a seamless team to hold each other up and achieve what i would have previously thought was impossible.


Oh my! I get shivers now just thinking about Casteller, the unity, the togetherness, the teamwork, the hands and feet, and the whole body touching each other just to get a chance to tuch the sky!


There are many different Castles that they create, the tallest of which (i think) they have young children ascend to the top with helmets to achieve the final frontier.

My Catalan friend told me that some people consider this to be child abuse because of how dangerous it can be.

But i have never seen young children so honoured by their community, so trusted with one of the toughest jobs in the team.

Before the children ascend they are hugged and high fived by the members of their community from all ages.

I can’t think of a better way to boost a child’s self esteem then to challenge them to reach for the heights on behalf of their community, culture and country.

There is little reason for concern too, as when the tower falls – if they do at all – the mass of people at the bottom quickly disengage and catch the fallen angels safely with ease.


Every time a tower is achieved, the awe struck silence breaks and the crowd applauds.

The members of the team disengage, puffing and red faced, and hug each other proudly, grasp each others shoulders, and shout and scream “Catalunya!” at the sky.


I’ve been observing the Catalan people for a little while now, and although this doesn’t account for them all – as no group of people can be painted with a single brush – i have been moved by how affectionate they are with each other, touching each other as they talk, having long massage trains that stretch down the streets, hugging each other lots, and singing together loud and bold until their voices are hoarse.

Catlunya, it’s time for some Hip Hop speak:

You are DOPE!

The spectacle of the Castella ends with cheers and beers, and the crowd melts away into the streets like a river of pride.



Cop this one Australian government! “Gracias Gerona”, from those with a heart.

I Antelope my way down a ancient narrow street, springing through the air, but unfortunately with the feeling (No thanks to Rational Me) that maybe the night was coming to an end.

“No!” shouted my spirit, “You’ve got to believe brother! The night has only just begun! All hail, The King of Gerona!”

Curving around the thick ancient walls I can hear the beautiful thick smell of a thumping boom bap and crack of a beat and snare spinning into the starts ahead.

One more corner I slipped around at speed like a serpent on heat and I gallop head first into two stoned cats who are bent over two decks and a mixer. One of ’em is flipping through his treasure trove of vinyl with a cigarette in his mouth, and the other is carefully placing the needle onto wax with the anticipation of a conductor who is about to lead a symphony orchestra.



I stop dead but living in my tracks, wanting to grab both of them by the shirt front and yell “Yeah boys! Lets get the party started!”, just as the fresh conductor flicks across the cross fader for everyone to experience the king himself, James Brown, kick out his funky jams sending them bouncing through our organisms as a warm medicine hand made by Ghetto Grandmother.

Do yourself a flavour favour right now!

No one else is dancing, unbelievable! It’s bloody James Brown! There’s about 10 people standing there smoking and drinking beers unmoving, I can’t understand why, but I know why i’m here, to live the good life! Blessed to be born!

So I bust out my toprocks, wiggle my hips at the moon and spill my soul like a cracked egg all over the stones of Gerona.

On and on It goes.

“Get upa! Get on up! Get upa! Get on up! Get on the scene! Like a sex machine!”

Around and around my body moves with my eyes closed, spinning like a funky ballerina dressed in a graffiti tutu, morphing at the speed of light into a butterfly who flies on the rythm of stunning painted canvases!

I hear laughter next to me and open my eyes to see that still no one is dancing, but there is a kid of about three years old who’s watching me in wonder and busting out his own outstanding maneuvers.

It’s his father who is laughing in pure delight,
“I have never seen him dance like this before!” he says in broken English and begins to have a boogie himself with his son.

Beautiful boys, Buddha would be proud of us right now.

The father laughs again and clutches his heart as his son copies me by going to the ground too, but the cute little tacker goes beyond what I can do by standing on his head and convulsing his body to the rhythm like a beat-freaky cheeky-monkey.

Kids man! That’s what dancing is about! Being a kid again!

Around and around the three of us go as the funk just keeps on coming like the God of freedom is robbing the pockets of fun!

The beat starts jumping all over the place, skipping back and forward, speeding up and down, and the Dj’s are talking frantically with each other and losing their moral.

I know exactly what going on and I lean into their booth and say,

“Have you boys got a broken needle?”

“Yeah man! Yeah! The needle on the right is completely fucked up!”

“I know what that’s like brothers! Just rock it on one side! Let the record play out and focus on the old fade in fade out! Don’t let it get you down, and we’ll get this party jumping!” I say waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care.

But I can see that it’s getting to them, a broken needle makes you feel like switching it all off and calling it a night.

The trials and tribulations of spinning wax.

I look around again and still none but the toddler is dancing.

Come on Gerona! Is this seriously all you’ve got?

It must take an epic amount of restraint to have the bass of the funk slapping through your hips and do nothing but nod your head slightly and sip your beer.

Just my unhumble opinion of course.

I’m sweating like a water fountain with my eyes bulging out of their sockets, so I pack it in slapping hands with the D.J.s, the toddler and his father.

WeI put a fat juicy worm on the hook but the fish just aiint biting.

Theres only so much 4 men and a toddler can do to warm up the space before its time for someone else to step in and let go of their inhibitions.

But hey! There’s the first thing ticked off my wishlist for the night, to dance to good music until my legs fall off.

Dear: The Universe,

Thank you .

From: The King of Gerona.



I leave the street party absolutely high on the oxygen in my blood that is circulating through me like an underground aquifer.

Drenched in sweat, and a little disappointed that this might be all that Gerona has to offer…

NO! Tonight, I am the King of Gerona! Come on now! Chin up, spirits up! Get em up get em up get em up!


There must be something else out there!

I walk down a few streets and wait about 45 minutes for a Kabab, which is the best kebab I’ve ever had, made by a lovely old couple.

The time I spent waiting brought my energy levels down though, but there was a Catalan guy ordering a Kabab with me who I couldn’t understand a word he said, but he was funny as hell… cheeky boy.

Smashing the kebab into my face on the stone curb in the Gerona night, a young guy walks past me, bows his head and says with a charming thick accent,

“Enjoy your meal.” Before walking off with his arm around a beautiful woman.

Thank you brother, I will enjoy my meal, and you have just given me that boost of positive energy that I was needing.


The Goddess, who’s womb holds the power of creation.

A murmur simmers down the alleyways, i stride on over to find a large crowd in another big courtyard.

So I fly into the middle like a boomerang and look around to figure out what’s going on.

All around me Catalan people are wearing bandannas around their faces with hoods and hats tucked tightly over their heads and an wild eagerness gnashing its teeth in their eyes.

What the….?

Suddenly! the street lights go out and the crowd starts cheering. A projector shoots up over our head and the image of a clock on the wall ticks around and chimes with the words “Egypt” written underneath it.

Behind us a spotlight flares up to reveal a stage where three young men are dressed as Egyptians, one of whom is brutally whipping the other two to the ground.


The spotlight goes out, the clock ticks again, and it chimes with the words ‘Spain’. A brutalised scream rips holes in the night from across the crowd where a woman is tied to a post and being tortured, she is a witch!

The spotlight goes out again, the clock ticks over, this time it malfunctions and a young man near to me who’s dressed as a businessman begins stressing out over a broken computer under the fresh spotlight.

He throws the computer to the ground yelling, then he runs through the crowd bowling people over in his frantic wake; business tie fluttering.

The clock strikes again and a huge bang makes the crowed jump and deafens our ears.

Before we have a chance to get a grasp on what the hell is going on, demons began to pour through the streets with spinning fireworks that wail like devastated Banshees that throw fire all over us.


The demons hold firecrackers in their hands, laughing like mad men/women, which they throw under our feet, and leaving us us to jump and scream away from the stinging needles.

The crowd is too big for anyone to get away.

The Catalans scream and cheer, running at the demons, lifting them onto their shoulder and dancing under the fireworks.





Diables is another proud tradition of the Catalan people (and like most of their traditions, they have no idea why they do it.), where they dress up as demons, go absolutely berserk and try to light everyone on fire, accompanied by a marching band of drummers who hammer out tribal rhythms to get the animal in your heart and the claws on your feet out to prowl the underworld !

The ancient streets of Gerona are bathed in red, demons are cackling, the drummers in a sweaty trance, and the crowd of Catalans surges forward in pursuit of Satan!

The tourists all stand back, frightened on the outskirts, i don’t blame them at all, it was a scene straight from hell.


Thankfully my Catalan friend had filled me in on what Diables is a week before, and so i pull up my hood, run into the fray under the fireworks and had an experience that i will remember for the rest of my life!


This all went on for an hour of mayhem, where at the end under the ever watchful eye of the ancient church of Gerona, wagons were set on fire and dragons asunder.


Then it all finished and died down, and very quickly the crowd dispersed as fast as it had assembled, and trickled off back down through the streets of the mystical Gerona in hot pursuit of the next excitement.


I follow behind groups of young people, thinking that maybe they know where the next party’s at, trying not to appear like I’m stalking them, although they look over there shoulders at me many times, it’s unavoidable really, because I am stalking them and they can smell it.

Stalking them like a hungry party predator!


I give up on following them after a while because i don’t think they knew what they wanted, so i cross the street where my heart tells me, towards some very loud music that has been ricocheting off the alleyways every which way for a while now.

Bright colorful lights start to appear through the tree tops alongside laughing, screaming and the extremely loud music.

I turn a corner in my ignorance and walk into the biggest carnival that I have ever seen, bigger than I could have ever dreamed off, absolutely jammed packed with what looks like thousands of people!



What the hell?…

There are food stalls everywhere, carnival games, dodgem cars, an enormous fares wheel, roller coasters and an huge stage with a band playing Pop-Folk-Latin-Gyspy-groove music.

Whaaaat the?…

The amount of times I have already wandered lost all over this city today, how did I manage to miss this?

Surely they didn’t set it up in the last few hours?

No, a carnival this big would take at least a week to set up.


 The band on stage are called ‘Animal’, and they are to me like the Catalan equivalent of the Cat Empire, at least when they played live tonight.


Hundreds of screaming fans are singing their lyrics word for word, and I can easily say that they are one of the best live acts that I have seen to date.

The lead singer belts his beautiful fun melody’s in Catalan whilst flicking out some 3 step rhythms with his wrist on a Spanish guitar.

The bass player leans out almost into the crowd with his bass face turned all the way up.

The Saxophone and trumpet players dance so hard i fear that their knees might break, jumping around and having a horny old time, swinging back and forth with each other.

The lead guitarist is a shy, hunched over bedroom prodigy.

The keyboardist is one of the most beautiful young woman I’ve ever seen (Not that that matters), and man could she play, especially when she stabbed the keys with her elbows.

The drummer thwack out jungle jams that would have Tarzan howling through the treetops to mate with Jane.

And we are having a grand old time, Catalan style.


Catalunya, you know how to make everything good!
Here’s a link to Animal’s music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZnwCG_Qn0s

Thank you Gerona!

Famous Catalan band after famous Catalan band come on stage, all with Latin, Gypsy, Reggae feels, and the crowd goes bonkers, practically back flipping as one, singing every song word for word together, young and old, as if they were watching Barcelona FC win the grand final!

Bit by bit I made my way further into the crowd until I found my tribe, the ones who are there to dance like it’s the last day on Earth.

We spin, twirl, bop, bounce, crouch, jump and smile together as if we’ve known each other since the beginning of time.


A boisterous young man wraps his arm around me with a strong grip and says,

“Hey man! Where are you from?”

“Australia!” I say.

“Ahhhhh Australia! No way!” He turns to his friend and speaks hard and fast in Catalan, all I can make out is “Australiano!”

Excitement spreads from ear to ear and people start to push forward to confirm with me that I truly am Australian with wide, wet starry eyes.

I’ve never felt famous before, if only they knew that I’m just another face in the crowd back home.

The boisterous young man who’s name is Eric grabs me again around the neck again and screams,

“Hey! I am Catalan! What do you think of Catalunya?”

“Aww bro, I love Catalunya!”

“YEEEEEAAAAH CATULUNYA IS THE BEST!” He screams like a raging animal. “Here Australiano! Drink this!” He yells handing me a big bottle of orange fluid, “It is the best water in all of Valencia!”


I take the bottle, take a big swig and almost cough it back up at the amount of alcohol in it mixed with a touch of what I think is Fanta.

“YEEEAAAH!” Eric screams in my ear and whacks me on the back, “The best water in all of Velencia!”

Well there is another thing ticked off my wishlist, a substance that was free and would put me in a state of utter bliss.

Dear: The Universe,

Thank you again.

From: The King of Gerona.


So much fun was had, but as all things must come to an end, so too did the music and our tribe vanished out of sight and into the night to have fun elsewhere.

I started to get very cold very quickly, it just happened to be the first cold night since I had landed in Catalunya, the kind of cold where car windshields begin to blur in the beginnings of frost, where you can see your breath leave you with every exhale.

I had nowhere to sleep and the jumper I had on is only good for a cool summers night.

Damn it Corey!

Why do you flip coins and do this to yourself?

“Because it makes things interesting! Stir it up!” says Magical Me.

I walked around for hours trying to find that jacket that someone surely left behind in a drunken stupor, but never found it. I had absolutely no idea where I was, tortured by the warmed bodied people walking past me who were complaining about how cold it was despite the two jumpers and a jacket they had on, they would think I was out of my mind if I stopped them and asked them for a hug or if I could crash at their place.

I walked past door after door, who behind them housed warm rooms and heavenly beds, I began to understand more then ever before what it might feel like to be homeless.


You are a complete outsider, left on your own to wander the streets and find your own salvation.

If you don’t have a set of keys or a passcode to gain entry to the myriad doors, you are denied access to what is really a basic human right.

I knew that in all of these houses there were surely extra jackets, beanies, scarfs, blankets and beds that were going unused, but again, unless I had the right to gain access to them, I was out on my own.

I considered ripping some holes in garbage bags, or making a suit out of cardboard boxes to make a suit out of them for some kind of protection against the cold, but i never went that far.

My energy was escaping me fast, that precious energy that my body only has a limited amount of, to create the warmth I needed from my core to prevent myself from going into hypothermia.

At one point i crouched in a gutter and with bits of paper and cardboard I had found along the way and i lit them on fire in my hands to absorb what heat I could, despite the chemical filled smoke that made me cough, stinging my throat.

Street after street I walk, around and around, it’s the least I can do to stay warm, despite my exhaustion, my muscles are all cramped up, thankfully my cynicism helps to keep my spirits afloat.


“Hola guapo” comes a sweet feminine voice from a small hidden alcove in the wall.

I walk inside to find a beautiful woman roughly my age with strong dark brown hair and eyes, she is tucked inside sitting up in a sleeping bag that has 3 thick blankets poking out around her chest, next to her lays a black Labrador who wags its tail at me and nudges her arm to be held again.

“Què fas en el fred d’aquesta manera?” she asks me.

“Uhh perdon, no entence.” I say back to her softly and shaking uncontrollably.“Perdon Senorita, no Catalan and no Espanol… Australiano.”

“Pobres Australiano” she says shaking her head and smiling.

“El meu nom és Corey” I say in slow, staggered Catalan as I point to myself and fall to my knees next to her.

“Hola Corey. El meu nom és Anastasia” She says indicating herself. “Això és Diable.” She says softly stroking the Labrador’s ear.

“Are you Catalan?” I ask her through chattering teeth.


“I love Catalunya” I say, which must have looked funny because i wasn’t enjoying myself at the time.

“Vostè és un amor. Li liek a dormir aquí aquesta nit?” She says opening up her sleeping back enough for another person to squeeze in.

I feel like i have known Anastasia for a long time, and not having any other options i say, “Si, be, Gracias.”

Stepping over Diable carefully and delicately squeeze in next to Anastasia, i feel bashful at such immediate intimacy and my weakened state.

“No sigui tímid, cal o contacte amb mi per escalfar.” She says into my ear with a soothing tone.

“Muchas gracias.” I say shaking even more upon the touch of her warm heart.

We talk with each other for a while, with out breath warming each others faces and barely understanding a single word between us.

I was surprised at how lovely she and all of her possessions smelt.

Diable snuggled in closer to us both whimpering and our three hearts produced enough warmth to heat a castle.

Eventually my temperature stabilised with Anastasia’s arms around me and mine around her, and right before the moment that we all fell asleep, Anastasia kissed me lightly on the lips and said:

“Bona nit home bell, Corey”

“Bona nit Anastasia, tu es bonica, senorita.”


I fell asleep that night, in a warm bed and having fallen in love with a beautiful woman.

Dear: The Universe.

Thank you for it all.

Love from: The King of Gerona.


“Fortune favours the bold” – Roman proverb.


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2 thoughts on “Homeless in Gerona, sleeping with Diables.

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