Lady May
This is the thin armed girls, the Columbian music, the tense flamenco meets upright Edwardian bursting with passion.

This is Cethelia meets Cynthia.

This is trumpets and the letter R I can’t roll.

This is buying firm glossy black-eyed fish from a thick eye-lashed, full faced girl.
This is fresh clean vegetables and the happy encouraging lady
who smiled so heartfelt when we spoke Spanish badly.
This is sunshine, Ibrahim Ferrer.

This is dancing on the street with strangers and twirling under bandstands, this is the passion we have but can’t express so Latin like.

This is sharing the pavement, sharing the road, whether it’s a pedestrian or a motorbike, a wave or a nod… ‘after you bicycle girl’.

This is going downhill on smooth tarmac, the wind rushing past your ears making you hum, sing out loud without realizing.
This is the kindness of strangers, the caretaker man who cut holes in and then put a red bin liner over my head when it rained so I cycled off
with the corners flapping violently like wild shoulder pads, grinning as people stared.

This is for feeling ripped off buying two miniature fans and then finding a big one for one euro from the street.

This is for clever pregnant bellied girls, swollen with pride and next centuries promise.

This is for Tracey and for success.

This is for being in a band and making magic together and smiling to each other and feeling it in your core.

This is for finding things when your not looking.

This for when your hands are tied, your position sealed and you are content with it.

This is for when things come easily, simply, without pain.


Carol Peace – 20th August 2013, Barcelona