's been a while.

It has. Like with most things, I set out to do something, got distracted and didn't achieve that very something. Just so happens that that so something is this so blog. So what. I'll pick up where I left off.
I left you in Catalunya. That was over eight months ago. And I'm reflecting on this now. Hopefully as I type the following excuse I might make some sense of this:


I spent more time underwater during July and August of 2010 than I spent underwater at the age of eight-ish, when I trained to compete in cross-county swimming races for plastic trophies. And that was alot. This underwater was better though, I couldn't even hear myself think about unrelated issues, I didn't even think. I just heard the water. And saw the fish. And rocks. I couldn't smell anything, not chlorine like before. But that's what the sea is for. Here's that picture I promised anyway:

I met a met a nationalist and some laid-back musicians. I thought about staying and working. I probably should have stayed to extend that summer, but there wasn't enough demand for me. If I spoke the language I'd have been more soughtafter I'm sureafter.

My mum had seen the world. I asked her about it and she said it was small. I still don't know how I feel about that. I suppose everything is small when you've seen it all.

At home I wasn't happy. I got there in September. I'm still there. I eventually found a job.That was in November. I don't want to type about looking for work. Or how work has been. Or how work is. I'm interested in typing what work will be like, but I'm at risk of plagairising the future. Ol' pasty stays off my case, because by the time he's reacted, snr. present goes to take his place.

I have had some good moments in those four sixths of a year since, but they're not easy to recall under winter's maturity beanie. I no longer wear it without reason, it serves a sensible solution, to a problem.

On a less sombre-shell bombre-shell, here's a nice bit of work from a Barcelonian Balcony: