Neither here nor there

I first became aware of her about 3 years ago on a warm, sunny day in my favorite park. I sat on the park bench, two benches away from her, watching her twitch, pace, smoke and bop her head.

At first glance, I saw a simply dressed, pretty woman.

She was tall and bony but her face had a sculptured look artists go gaga for.

Since then, summers and winters have passed. I have seen her alone -- ALWAYS alone. That face, I thought so pretty, showed me at a moment’s glance, lifetimes of comings and goings I could not imagine.

Then one particular day, sometime last year, I took bus 92 on my way to somewhere.

From inside the bus, I saw her filling jugs with water in our “favorite” park. It was then that I decided to take her picture.

Neither here nor there #1
Barcelona, 2006

Time passed and I saw her no more. I often wondered about her and if she were okay.

One day, quite by accident, I found her home – a cardboard box. The entrance walls of a refurbished building provided her shelter from the cold and privacy from passers-by prying eyes.

Neither here nor there #2
Barcelona, 2006

A few weeks later, I saw the space she called home boarded.

Neither here nor there #3
Barcelona, 2007

The park bench was now her bed, accessible to the elements and open to prying eyes।

Neither here nor there #4
Barcelona, 2007

Nowadays, she spends her time in a prone position, smoking and listening to what seems to me to be an mp3 player or radio.

Neither here nor there #5
Barcelona, 2007

When she walks around and around, she twitches, bounces, paces and mumbles like the first time she caught my eye. Her face is older.

Neither here nor there #6
Barcelona, 2007

I have chosen to select pictures that do not show her face.

I am curious about her.

How is it that I or we are “here” and she is “there”?

Were we born into the “right” family? For us, was it spiritual or genetic luck or, in her case, bad karma?

To philosophical for a blog, I know.

I don’t expect to take any more photos of her. What I would really like to do is speak and get to know her better.

And maybe, just maybe,

I will.

P. S. I have written many posts, and with few exceptions, my stories tell the light side of Barcelona.

However, my adopted city has a heartbreaking side too. The unknown woman in my post is as important to me as the street-performers and the “pesky tourists” I lovingly have written about and you have read.

They are Barcelona to me and so is she.

View barcalunacy's A Candid View of Everyday People FLCKR photoset.

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