Independence And Joy

Early start in the morning, says Ying.

How early? says Sweezus.

Six twenty, on Ryanair, says Ying. Or twelve mid day, flying with Vueling.

Do you mean to say you've split us again? asks Gaius.

Yes, says Ying. It's better that way. Now who wants to get up really early?

I do, says Gaius. And, no doubt, Kong will.

What about the buffet breakfast? asks Kong.

You'll miss it, says Gaius. But it will be worth it. More time to start looking for spider habitats.

Kong doesn't think so.

He decides to go for a walk on his own in Las Ramblas.

I'll go early, says Arthur. So I might as well stay up all night.

You stayed up all last night, says Ying. So did I. We need to sleep sometimes. I thought you, me and Daniel O'Connell could fly Vueling.

And me, says Sweezus.

No, not you, says Ying.

Arthur senses a conflict of interest.

Let them sort it out. He gets up from the table and heads off into the night life of Las Ramblas.

Bright lights and noise.

Temptations.

Isn't that the waiter who whipped away his Patatas Bravas too early?

Hey, says Arthur.

Hey, says the waiter, Alejandro.

They go into a bar. It's called Hudson's.

Hello boys, says Kong. This is the place to be, eh?

Okay. Not really.

You're the waiter, says Kong.

Alejandro, says Alejandro. Nice to meet you again. You are an old man, yet wise, eh?

Not so old, says Kong. I'm asserting my independence.

So am I, says Arthur.

This is good. Shall I order a jug of sangria? says Alejandro. My friend works here. It's cheap.

He heads off to order a jug of Spiced Rum and Vanilla Sangria.

Found any more postcards to add to the collection? asks Kong.

The collection, says Arthur. No I haven't.

I saw a stand on the street, outside a newspaper kiosk, says Kong. I picked up a handful.

He spreads them out on the table.

Parc Güell, Mont Juïc, Arc de Triomf, Plaça de Catalunya.

That makes five altogether, says Arthur.

Alejandro comes back with the brimming jug of sangria. Slop!

Wet spots on the postcards.

Kong goes to wipe them off with his finger.

He stops himself.

What does it matter?

Kong imagines this is how you feel about things when you're Spanish.

Much later....

Arthur is resting his head on the table, composing a poem.

I have seen archipelagos and islands
delirious eyes open to the sea wanderer...
in these bottomless nights you sleep and exile yourself
millions of golden birds......

Excelente! slurs Alejandro, poking holes in the postcards, with a black plastic straw.

Kong feels joy in the midst of these things.