It was infuriating. I had been a hundred and fifteen days in the line and had come back to Barcelona ravenous for a bit of rest and comfort; and instead I had to spend my time sitting on a roof opposite Civil Guards as bored as myself, who periodically waved to me and assured me that they were “workers” (meaning that they hoped I would not shoot them), but who would certainly open fire if they got the order to do so. If this was history it did not feel like it. |
WEDS: A Writer's Wit | Aubrey Plaza
THURS: A Writer's Wit | Alice McDermott
FRI: My Book World | Julie Satow, The Plaza: The Secret Life of America's Most Famous Hotel