Today I wrote around one thousand words. I would have written more, but I made myself sick from eating pizza, and as it happens I cannot write while sick from eating pizza. In any case, I am nearing 15,000 words, and should have 20,000 finished within a week.
The pizza that made me sick was the high point of the day, for better or for worse. It cost five euros and was covered, from head to foot, in lamb. I ate the entire thing on my own without shame. The place I ordered it from was a total hole in the wall, but they made wonderful pizza. The best thing about Spain, it seems, is that it is impossible not to find good food.
But little else happened today. I walked a great deal around the city, enough to become quite nicely exhausted. Perhaps the most compelling revelation of the day happened not in Spain, but over the Internet. I will not be seeing the girl from the UK, Claire, again, as it turns out she has a boyfriend, a very interesting (although rather common) twist. And so I said good-bye to her, more or less. I feel as though I am always saying good-bye.
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