I adore Edgar Allen Poe. His work is so twisted, morbid, raw and painfully honest that it is impossible to turn away from. You can feel his struggle to understand himself through his horrific stories. I believe the best form of creation comes from when a person is struggling. My best poetry, albeit I am not a poet, emerges when I am confused and angry, sad and lonely. It is in those moments when you need to grasp onto the emotion and put it on paper before it escapes you.
After classes, I went to the welcome dinner AIFS had. It was at a resturant called Milk, tiny and buried in an alley straight out of history books.
As we walked home, we stumbled upon a hidden jewel, one of many in Barcelona. It was a castle. It is mind-boggling to me that enormous pieces of history and beauty are nestled among metro stations, pay phones and parking spots here. Barcelona is an active marriage of the old and the new. Modern buildings surround ancient structures, and history lives in the movement of right now. I love that I am in a place where dark, aged beauty lives harmoniously with modern technology. Oddly enough, the two do not clash.
After classes, I went to the welcome dinner AIFS had. It was at a resturant called Milk, tiny and buried in an alley straight out of history books.
I love the castle! Is it still a private home or can u go in and look around?
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