Men and women rape Barcelona. Men and women try to possess Barcelona because they believe she's beautiful and rebel but they never get her because they will never believe she's a meuca*. Barcelona only practices an inbred and small-town sex which disgusts her. Barcelona is guilty enough to be real but little else.

Barcelona is the capital of a country which exists but nobody has given birth. That country, that badly named freak, blames Barcelona for being a whore and for surviving. That country, called Catalonia, treats Barcelona with contempt while she gives birth, day after day, to a capricious and spoiled State. Spain is the daughter of this freak and both plead to each other violence and humiliation to be understood and to be someday. Barcelona does not need Madrid to be exploited. To feel exploited, Barcelona only needs that nobody dares to see that she is a whore.

Barcelona, ​​alone, isolated from Catalonia and Spain, is tired of having no sense. Barcelona is a bitch because she doesn't have a language and when you do not have a language all the other languages, whether inside or outside, only penetrate you while you pretend forgiveness or permission. Barcelona learned that she was Barcelona on the streets, too late and badly. She learned that she was Barcelona far away from Barcelona and always in a violent way.

Even so, Barcelona still does not know how to distrust when she's flattered and still believes that she can speak for herself. But whores do not need to be and they pay dearly for that freedom. Barcelona is an offense to other countries and to many other cities which don't know that they are cities or what does it mean. More isolated than ever by her flashy name and a make-up which she adores, Barcelona is not worried about losing a soul she never had nor to have given up future which pimped her out.

Men and women we dream for her. We see Barcelona up in arms, powerful, leading the people of the sea and the people without a State against the dangerous unreality of the city-states. Because we will keep wanting to love Barcelona even if we are only allowed to need her and we will keep wanting to hate her even if we are only allowed to imagine how do you hate a bitch.

Going for a walk in Barcelona, through its squares and its blue sky, is the reality which doesn't let us to dream. Strolling through Europe, through its history and its museums, is the same business in which to stop dreaming gives benefits and becomes a way of life.

There are still no barcelonians. There are still no europeans either. There are not even tourists in Barcelona or immigrants in Europe because customers, first and in order to be able to do so, we will have to come back here once again until we are not anymore and we can say that we've enjoyed.


*meuca : a whore in catalan.

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