Out of the posada by 9:30 this morning, I headed to Alcala to see the vendors setting up, to see what festivities were taking shape, and to enjoy the little slice of sun we were promised today. It was quiet. Not a lot of people were out walking yet, but Van Gogh painted the sky this morning, liquifying the clouds and spraying a layer of whipped cream over the top.
A truck filled with mostly red flowers emptied into the Iglesia Carmen Alta.
I have one Friday left here.
shewhodaresnothing 