as I was trudging home from my late class today, bedraggled, cold, wet, tired, hoping my broken right shoe would survive the half-hour (who knew the rain in Spain was corrosive?) that rather friendly, approving whistle was not altogether unwelcome. The two minutes it took to braid my hair and the utter lack of make-up apparently weren't a deterrent. It's the little things: gracias, Sevilla.
Sí, son las confesiones de una americana en España: siempre confudida en su opinión...now there are enough cognates in that for anyone to understand.
1 comment:
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger (someone said something like that!)
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