Man Killer

She's part of a group of ladies who prey on special days in various parts of Barcelona wearing vintage clothing.

She looks sophisticated, proper and terribly hot as I sit typing in a room where the thermometer reads 90 degrees.

Yes, Luna ... There is an IKEA

Hidden and far away, tucked in the belly of Barcelona, is a store called IKEA in L'Hospitalet de Llobregat.

Bus and train are the way I get around Barcelona and the L95 was one way to reach IKEA. According to the internet, the L95's route begins at Barcelona's center, which I believe is la plaça de Catalunya.

But which streets from the plaça? Can you imagine how many streets have access to the plaça? Many! Why couldn't directions be explained so that a 4 year old and mature people (like me) could understand?

I was on a mission and I was NOT going to give up. I put the idea of finding IKEA aside for awhile, for confusion reigned for a long long time. (I'm too embarrassed to say how long).

I went about my simple but eventful life meeting locals, pesky tourists and discovering new places, like Casanova Foto.

And, finding the L95 bus!

Indeed! The L95 bus is almost in front of the Casanova Foto shop. Crazy, eh?

We went to IKEA that day and a few more times since then.

Victory!

PS:  Casanova Foto and origin of the L95 bus
    
     Ronda de la Universitat, 35, 08007 Barcelona
     933 02 73 63

Pass it on!

Too much of a stretch, even for a ballerina

What's the ballerina doing here?!

Is she the odd man out?

A ballerina helps a hip-hop group perform warm-up exercises.

The crowd is delighted. 

Her face doesn't matter.

I had not seen her face but she surely caught my eye for her stance was confident and while unassuming was assuming.

Very rarely does a woman attract my attention but I've learned through the eyes of the camera and more an awareness of my  immortality to appreciate ALL that is around me.

She was alone with long auburn hair spiraling down her shoulders and back.

Her legs looked like a never ending tube of toothpaste squirted into stiletto heels so pointy that hopefully she had the very ever high heels registered as a dangerous weapon.

I clicked a few photos of her more to see how the new adjustments I made on my camera appealed to my taste. A bit saturated and something I would have to fix at a later time. I didn't want to lose her.

She walked past me and slowly began turning. I realized she was taking selfies of herself, pouting her voluptuous lips in that way I see actresses do after a new round of collagen injections. Interesting, I thought, but not exceptionally exciting or different to post or even care. I realized her face just didn't matter.

And then I knew what I liked about her.

Can you guess?

It was the curvature of her body, truly shaped like an hour glass. I really liked the way she moved her body and she did too.

She is a woman and proud. And I like that.

Last Kid Picture with Pigeons --- Maybe

I used to think the birds fed by tourists was great to see and photo-opportunistic. Who doesn't ooohh and ahhh when a child screams with delight as the birds land on parts of their body, pecking and poking at the food?

La plaça de Catalunya is never short of birds, children, and kiosks selling bird feed.

And then I got to thinking this fine, sunny and warm day. (Some people say thinking is dangerous to me)

Birds and more birds seem to never, ever leave. As a matter of fact, I suspect multi-generational family of birds making the plaça their home going back 800 hundred years! Why should or would they ever fly-away if food and water where provided all day long?

Heck! I'd stay, too.

I even had this passing thought. How selfish are these birds? Do they let the other birds in the surrounding barrios know how great a life style they have?

Are they ever curious about the visitors that delight in their presence?

I strongly suspect this is my penultimate kid picture with pigeons until they (the pigeons) can demonstrate any other talent than flying, landing, pecking and eating.

Now don't take this too seriously but in Bill O'Reilly's words, "What say you?"