01 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments

09/01 Valencia, Spain

I woke early to the jingling and jangling of the vendors setting up the local market and was up and out in minutes following the caravan of wagons and carts down through the streets to the market. The strategy was the same, I looked for food and if I could obtain it for free, all the better. As long as we both got what we wanted out of the conversation, I could play the game. “You picked them all by hand did ya? Your fingers are too big. I think this one has been bruised. (more…)

01 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Poetry, 0 Comments

Poem 054 The cry rose high

The cry rose high, the dimness of the woods, me, me, me
evidence almost reaches the sky, we know it by, hear say, what a day, what a day

02 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, 0 Comments

09/02 Barcelona Spain

After a morning cup of coffee I took a direct route to the train station and boarded the first train heading towards Barcelona. I didn’t offer Jim a single word. He either followed or went his own way and at that point I wasn’t going to give it too much consideration. I wasn’t interest in continuing the conversation from the night before so sat in my own compartment. About a quarter of the way to Barcelona a group of travelers from North Africa joined in and donated some hash for the ride. (more…)