24 horas en alicante

It was the end of January, me and my friend Marco were drinking coffee when we found a couple of flights betweeen Denmark-Spain which were ‘offering’ their last seats.

We then finished our coffees and decided to go to Alicante for 24 hours.

Morning routine. I

I like to picture this lady’s routine in my head. She wakes up every morning at eight, she drinks orange juice and she puts three spoons of sugar in her coffee. Her flat faces the beach. She breathes the air of the sea, then she runs to the Quiosco de Noticias and she grabs the daily newspaper, full of dread. She is disgusted by all the hate that surrounds her. She heads to the beach carrying two chairs, one for herself, and one for her lover, who always wakes up late. If only the feeling of the sand on her naked feet, the love and the sound of the waves could heal this wonderful, frightening planet.

Charlas. I

I wish I knew what they were talking about.

Alicante. I

Alicante. II

There are no curtains here. You cannot hide any longer.

Alicante. III