Archive Panty Girdles

Barcelona Madrid (and III: The Museum of ferrrocarril)

Tuesday is our last day in Madrid, but we have the bird until the afternoon. There are still many things I have to see, and I take this morning. The first is to take the metro to Delicias, to take a look at the Railway Museum. There are several rows of cars, steam locomotives, and a room with toy electric trains which, although now I am happy with the train, I was never fond of children and curious objects used to furnish me a few chapters of the novel I'm writing. I have a few

doubts, and I can not solve just looking wagons and locomotives. There are several groups of children visiting the museum, and who act as guides are men older, maybe retired volunteers who once worked at RENFE. When a group of students leaves I ask one of these guides that I would like to ask you some questions. I tell him that I'm writing a novel, and I ask you to tell me what the car used by the train at the time that is set, and some technical details, as if, for example, then jump on a train up could be as simple as opening the door and do it. This gentleman is very friendly, and the few minutes that way with it are very helpful, perhaps the most profitable of the three days I spent in Madrid. And there is still mid-morning to continue walking the streets of the city, outdoor track, as I like to call it. We even have time to spend some time in the Prado Museum.

At seven o'clock, when we arrived at Atocha, my feet hurt from walking, and, as always when I travel, I regret not having brought a bigger suitcase, and fewer books. As usual, I do not even have time to read it had, and I've bought so many that the seams of my bag threaten to explode.

going to be a strange week: tomorrow, Wednesday will be as if it's Monday, and very soon I shall leave to travel again. We must seize every day as you can to keep writing. I like this feeling of working every day, see how the story progresses slowly, the satisfaction of a job well done but nobody has been imposed or order it and you never know if someone want to post or read when you finish. A writer friend I've always felt great admiration I have long said that perhaps the most difficult of my literary career was done, but whenever I'm working I try to think it's the same as when I started writing the first time, but have spent many years: do not even know if anyone will want to publish what I write, but that should not matter, because, after all, the only thing that counts is the happiness of meeting with yourself . What happens then when the time comes to write the word priceless END and not depend on me.

© Andrés Pérez Domínguez, February 2011