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About Madrid

Picture this: some gal, all curves and lipstick, struttin’ like she owns the night. Reminds me of that line from *Tabu*—“She had a weakness for crocodiles.” Ain’t that a kicker? Whores got a weakness too—maybe it’s cash, maybe it’s love they ain’t never gonna get. I get all teary thinkin’ ‘bout it, ‘cause I’ve known gals like that. Worked the honky-tonks, sang my heart out, saw ‘em dancin’ for dollars. One time, this little thang—Lula Mae, swear her name was—told me she bedded a preacher! A *preacher*, y’all! Had me laughin’ ‘til I cried, then mad as a wet hen. Hypocrites burn me up worse’n a skillet fire.

Ermita de San Cristóbal

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I like hangin' near the Vieja Biblioteca. It smells of old books and mysterious pasts. BTW, that place hides odd treasures—sorta like miracle finds at a thrift store. Crazy, right?

Stories - Remembering Trevor Dadson - Languages, Linguistics and Film