Again I look at the map of Europe on the wall. Who would have brought, some of those who sleep here, perhaps the container, there are many people here, the map of Europe, the land is narrow from east to west. Through sight, a straight line between the northern coast of Poland and southern Greece. The distance between the north and the south of France. The language leaves, brown tongue out, tongue shyly sucks blue stain west, on the left. Lines across the blue smudge the paper with wrinkles. I count the islands, the largest but they are not, I know some names, Guernsey, Lampedusa, Sao Miguel, Vormsi ... Vormsi, an island off Estonia, could travel there someday. Europe, a peninsula of Asia. Iberia an island attached by mountains. Catalonia an island attached to that other island by a strip. Barcelona an island connected by a belt of land and two blue lines. El Raval also an island connected or separated by wide streets around. My room alone for four peeling walls. I separated from the world for that wrinkled skin and a rash green. I touch the rash, I see the blue to the left of the map. I get up and put on my shoes and jacket flaps fat. I leave home with an annoying creak of guts, outside the wind slips behind flaps. I cross the Carme, turn-by Egipcíaques, Hospital continued for up to the Plaça Sant Agustí. I put in the queue, fuck me so late. In all look forward with confidence, with more hate, hate these casings are crisp to the front, hate my guts all those who are behind, they hate me for the same reason that I hate the former. There before the first fight, coats and others are separate. Come at four o'clock, sure. They are like ticks, change roof when they want, all with a blanket and are arranged, not me, I separate them, despise them. Finally the nuns opened the door and the tail moves. Slow progress. The old man in front does not move, does not know, I pushed and spit, but does not know. I do finally shuffle. Behind a pair of bearded smell as bad as the rest, shuffling walk like the rest. All are bearded. I try to keep enough distance from each other, look at the pebbles on the ground and throwing them like those in front to hurry up. The guts they know I'm close and poke more. Give the steps to the rhythm of the bearded one in front, I feel like spitting it out again. Finally go through the door, a wrinkled nun greets me, even I look at it. Entered the room and the table is only a space next to an American guy and shiny black shoes. He smiles with eight teeth, looked at him with hatred, I take my steaming plate and go into the yard, I do not mind the cold, I care not covered. As fast fingers and sink the entire palm on the mountain of rice boiling, burning my skin. Rice burns like lava, I keep the beans in your mouth and feel down his throat, but he ended up in a couple of minutes and I lick my dirty palm, I dry the pants and leave the dish on the floor beside the apple tree. A soft wire air slowly out of my nose, and smoke turns into winter. I open my eyes, rip a couple of blocks green, me I put in my pocket. I leave there without looking at the nun's hungry wrinkled or have not yet finished even half of your plate. Now I feel more awake, everyone looks at me, wrinkling his nose. I run a fountain and drink water with violence, I wet my hands and wash my face, I also I have a beard. I'm falling behind my fat flaps and run again until Calle del Carme, everyone looks at me, all without exception. I climb the last two steps with a new pain in the gut, open the door of the room and realize that thankfully no one took my mattress. I sleep hugging my two blocks, while the contours of the Portuguese coast smudge like breadcrumbs in the water.
