Somewhere in the middle of nowhere
































Posted in Art, Towns & Villages | Tagged , , , , | 14 Comments

The spot where Saint George killed the dragon

The little town of Montblanc is surrounded by an imposing defensive wall…

Middle ages defensive wall

Once you cross any of its gates…

Dark Ages gate

you find a very agreeable place to visit…

Middle Ages street

Streets are narrow in Montblanc because they were planned in the Middle Ages. Consequently, they are ideally suited for promenading leisurely, riding monkeys (mind the archs), sword combats, witch-hunts and that sort of things. Feel free to choose.

Medieval arched street

There are charming details here and there…

Tiny porch medieval

Shopping in Montblanc

Medieval narrow street

The people of Montblanc used to ask for Heaven’s protection at every corner.

– “Why?” -you may ask…

Saint in the way

Because in the Dark Ages there were dragons in the county. Terrible dragons. Horrifying dragons. But don’t worry. Dragons don´t exist today. It is just a legend. Isn´t it?

Light and dragon

Remember: mind the archs.



This is the simple and very nice church of Saint Michael (13th century, Romanesque facade, Gothic interior):


In the pic below: Saint Francis church (Romanesque/Gothic, far right) and Medieval walls (Defensive tower, left)


The most important church in the town is Santa Maria (14th century) Let´s go upstairs and let´s pay it a short visit:

Up to the church


Santa Maria Montblanc


Being a classical music lover, what I find more surprising in this church is its impressive Baroque organ. One of the best in Catalonia. It seems to be climbing up one of the church´s walls. Just like a giant spider:

Imposing old organ


Whenever you get out of the church, no matter how glad you are, don´t even think about using fireworks or firecrackers… They’re strictly forbidden in the church´s surroundings!:


It is such a nice, tranquil place…


Montblanc is Mediterranean territory. The coast is a 40 minutes drive away. Barcelona is a 1 1/2 hour drive away. Mediterranean means Mediterranean diet, Mediterranean wine and Mediterranean olive oil (pic below, olive tree and Medieval wall in Montblanc):


Wine in this area is D. O. Conca del Barberà. To be precise, Conca del Barberà is another one of the Spanish “Denominaciones de Origen”. This wine denomination corresponds to wines located in central Catalonia (in the valleys of the rivers Francolí and Anguera)

Very near of Montblanc, in the village of l’Espluga de Francolí, you´ll find “El Celler Cooperatiu de l’Espluga de Francolí”, also known as the Cathedral of Wine. It is a winery and museum. The building is very nice (1913, modernist)

Spanish winery

But today I am not blogging about l’Espluga de Francolí. I am blogging about Montblanc. Let´s come back to Montblanc and let’s cross its walls one more time:

Medieval towers and wall

Let´s climb to the top of the town…


In this hill there was a castle. Today there is no castle left. There is an informative panel. Informative panels are very convenient for lazy bloggers like myself. Just one picture, and I don’t need to type a word about the history of the place:

Medieval history

One of the main reasons I love Montblanc is its pastries, sweets and cakes.

Montblanc cakes

My favorite ones are those with figs and chocolate…

Medietrranean delicatessen

The orange cream cakes are superb…

Orange delicious

Surrealist cakes are ok too.

surrealist cakes

As a matter of fact, there are lots of choices…


But don´t eat too much sugar, or you can end up loosing your self-control and having terrible visions…


The main square of Montblanc is the perfect place to take a coffee al fresco and to recover your self-control.

Main square of Montblanc

You will need lots of self-control if you, like me, are looking for the exact spot where Saint George killed the dragon. Dealing with dragons is a daunting business, reserved for daring adventurers (like Saint George, you and me) only. So, let´s go on…


Stay in alert mode…

antidragon wall

It´s over there…


The legend of Saint George and the dragon is still alive in Montblanc. That legend is known as “La llegenda de Sant Jordi” (Sant Jordi means Saint George). A brief summary (in Catalan) is hanging on a wall:

The legend of Saint George

I don´t need to read it in order to know that dragons are terrible beasts. I am not afraid of terrible beasts. Purportedly, they dwelt in the wonderful mountains that surround Montblanc…


If I´m not wrong, that´s the Tower-Porch of Sant Jordi…

Sant Jordi tower

Yes, it is…


No doubt… Saint George killed the dragon here…


I don´t see any dragon, but… wait a minute… I´m hearing something… Something terrifying, like a wild beast growling and…

Oh my God!

A dragon is running towards me!



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A lady from Elche

She is very nice, and looks quite young for her age.

But what I find more surprising about this charming lady is the emotional ambiguity of her face expression. I have visited her a lot of times (she lives in Madrid now), and she always stares at me with the same mysterious aura.

Every time I see her, I wonder what she could be thinking about. But I never dare to ask. I don’t dare to ask because I am very shy. Moreover… what would people say if they see me talking to her? She is 2500 years older than me…

And then we have the language problem. She was found in Spain, but she doesn’t speak a word of Spanish. She is Iberian. I don’t speak Iberian. Nobody speaks Iberian these days. Iberian became extinct when the Roman folks invaded the Iberian peninsula a lot of centuries ago. The romanization meant that everyone started to talk in Latin. The Spanish language is just an evolution (like Italian, French…) from the Latin language, as you know. Yesterday, we all were Roman citizens. Today we, the candid inhabitants of this old continent called Europe, are Europeans, but… you know what? The Western Roman Empire collapsed in the 5th century.

Yes, it did.


And then the Dark Ages came…


No more sophisticated Art, no more brainy Philosophy, no more high Literature… Just a very looong age of darkness, superstition and stupidity.

That’s precisely what my friend, the lady from Elche, is thinking about. I am sure. She knows a lot about the decline and fall of successive civilizations. And she suspects that ours is about to fall again. I bet she does.

Why? Let me show you a surprising building of Madrid.

This is its western side (Paseo de Recoletos Street):

Spanish National Librery

The National Library of Spain (above), is one of the biggest libraries in the world, containing 33.000.000 catalog records for books, manuscripts, maps, etc. That amazing collection includes Don Quixote first editions , some authentic Da Vinci codes (handwritten and drafted by Leonardo himself, i.e. the real stuff, not the bestseller bullshit), and all the bibliographic treasures you can imagine…

Sharing this very same enormous building (eastern side, Serrano Street) you’ll find the National Archaeological Museum of Spain:

Archaeological Madrid

I think it’s needless to say how interesting this museum is. In their webpage ( they say that the museum’s mission is “… to offer the general public an accurate, attractive, interesting and critical interpretation of the objects that belonged to the different cultures which populated the Iberian Peninsula and the Mediterranean region, ranging from Antiquity to more recent periods, in the firm belief that a knowledge of this history can shed light on society as we know it today

And what the hell has all this to do with a lady from Elche and the fall of the Western culture?

The other day I visited the Dama de Elche at the Archaeological Museum. Its rooms were almost empty. I could easily hear not only my steps, but my heart beats as well. And, from time to time, here and there, among so many treasures of art and history, I also heard some conversations from other visitors…

All of them, with almost no exception, were talking about the last chapter or episode or whatever of a tv series called “the games of the throne” or something like that.

Yes; the decline and fall of the Western culture is here again.

And the Dama de Elche knows it.

I’ve no doubt at this respect.

Look at her face…

Iberian lady

Dark Ages are coming…


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Via Lucis’ visit

Via Lucis is Latin. It means Way of Light.

Visit means visit, and some visits mean a lot.

—   —   —   —   —   —  —   —   —

It all happened on a sunny morning of May…

My castle

I was practicing mindfulness in my humble castle, when a burst of light exploded within my empty head, just like a top-notch-flash blows within the walls of a little Romanesque church.

Shocked and tousled, I heard a telepathic message:

-We wish to contact the fabulous Covetotop… We wish to contact the fabulous Covetotop… We wish to contact the fabulous Covetotop…

-Who are you? -I asked with my fabulous mind powers and with my poor English.

– We’r pjandnis of vaicis. How’re ya doin’, hoveop?

– Can you repeat it, please? -I asked with my fabulous mind powers, because I didn’t understand a word.

– We are PJ and Dennis, of Via Lucis. How are you doing, Covetotop? -answered the telepathic voice.

– PJ and Dennis! What a wonderful surprise! I am fine, thank you. And you?

– Everting key’s airplanes!

– Can you repeat it slowly, please?

– Everything is ok; as planned.

– Ok!

– Cvtop, we’re n’ spin. Wild be deleted to hostyalanch day, what da ya thin?

– What?

– We have just arrived in Spain. Please, allow us to host you at lunch today.

– Of course! Lunch today! Yes we can!

– One clock a Ken Rocket.

– Great! -I didn’t understand a word again, but I was so embarrassed by my English cognitive functions, that I didn’t dare to ask for further clarifications. So, I said “Great!”, which is a great word to say when you don’t know what to say.

– Siyater!

– What? -Dammit. I couldn’t help asking “what?” again.

– See you later, Covetotop!

– See you later, PJ and Dennis!

Our kind telepathic conversation ended. I got up, lit a lamp, sat at my desk and breathed deeply.


I was very excited. I was very excited because of my digital friends’ imminent visit and because I had discovered that my telepathic English was as bad as my spoken English. As a matter of fact, I thought that my friends’ phrase “allow us to host you at lunch” meant that they were coming to my castle to have lunch with me…

I looked around and felt a little shame. I haven’t run the vacuum cleaner over the carpets since 1842 or so. Everything was dirty here and there. And the dinning room was a total mess…

When I realized the situation, I made a significant effort in order to avoid a panic attack, but…


I had to resume my mindfulness exercises urgently, taking control of my breath and focusing my attention on my belly button while cleaning asap my dinning room…


Well. I did a good job. I only needed to get some food. So, I rushed downstairs, towards the castle’s beach, to fish sardines.

castle beach

I got two and a half tons of sardines. I rushed upstairs, willing to grill the sardines before my digital friends’ arrival.

In a moment of lucidity, I rewinded and played again (in my mind) my digital friends’s telepathic message “One clock a Ken Rocket”.

– Oh my! I was terribly wrong! They actually said “One o’clock at Can Roca”! They want me to have lunch at a restaurant! What a psychological relief! -I exclaimed to myself.

I stopped practicing mindfulness while grilling sardines, and started to think seriously about how should I dress for such a special occasion…

-They’re very cultivated Americans. And they have traveled thousands of miles via Iceland before arriving this far. I cannot show up at the restaurant dressed in jeans and a simple white shirt. I should wear something more formal and ethnic. A pre-Roman Iberian suit from the 4th century BC is perhaps a more adequate apparel. Yes it is -I said to myself.

It seemed an adequate apparel, but in fact it was too old, too heavy and smelled very bad.

– Mmm … Maybe I should wear something lighter. A torero suit, for example, with hat and cape… Ernest Hemingway was American too, and he loved Spain. And he loved bullfighting. I don´t like bullfighting at all, because I love animals (grilled sardines included), but I must act as a very well educated person and dress appropriately (from the ethnological and folkloric point of view) in honor of my friends PJ and Dennis. So, here we go…

No. Definitively no.

– I’d rather show up dressed as a Spanish guitarist from the Romantic period -I said to myself, and… voilà!

– Olé! That´s perfect. Now, I can go to the restaurant at a slow pace, because I have plenty of time before the scheduled lunch time, which is one o’clock -I said to myself.

I had so much time, and I was so relaxed, that I took my eco-friendly mean of transport in stead of my noisy and polluting car:

P3312175 - copia

– Hola! -I said to my eco-friendly mean of transport.

– Hola. ¿A dónde vamos hoy, Covetotop? -it asked me, in Spanish, because my eco-friendly mean of transport doesn’t speak English; and, in any case, it couldn’t make sense a conversation in English between the both of us.

– A Can Roca, y despacito, que no hay prisa -I answered it.

In our way to the restaurant, my wise eco-friendly mean of transport made me a suggestion (I translate it into English, for your convenience):

– I am aware that your friends PJ and Dennis are some of the best photographers in the world, as far as Medieval architecture photography is concerned. I also suppose that they must be working very hard just now, in the old churches of Besalú and surroundings… To this regard, it is mandatory to take into account that, most probably due to the climatic change, temperatures are abnormally high these days. You should invite them to a refreshing ride in your luxurious motorboat after lunch. They will love our Mediterranean coast and its mythological breezes.

My eco-friendly mean of transport is a little nerd, but it was right this time; hence, I accepted its suggestion:

– What a good idea, my dear eco-friendly mean of transport! Turn 180 degrees and rush to my luxurious motorboat! I will polish and clean it a little, before lunch! I think we have enough time to do it! -I said to my eco-etc.

– What does turn 180 degrees mean? -it asked me.

– I am not sure… It has something to do with directions and that sort of concepts. In any case, run as fast as you can to my luxurious motorboat! Now! Go Go Go Go…

We went went went…

And we arrived.

My luxurious motorboat was in a very bad condition.

I had a lot of work to do…


I worked hard.

I cleaned, painted, varnished and brightened my luxurious motorboat.

I got this result:


I ended up exhausted, sunburned, bald and almost naked (due to such superhuman efforts)

I even lost my Spanish guitar.

And I took a selfie, just for the record:

I asked very politely my eco-friendly mean of transport to take me asap to my humble castle. I needed a shower and a new suit. A white suit, to be precise.

My eco-friendly mean of transport took me to my humble castle as fast as it could. Sadly, that was the last service it rendered to me (due to the effort, the abnormally high temperatures and the merciless sun)

Clean and well dressed (white suit), I took my noisy and polluting red car (yellowish later, discolored by the merciless sun too)…


And I drove to Can Roca, where finally I had the pleasure of meeting PJ and Dennis… in the real world!

What a good time we had at the restaurant! I talked in English all the time, and my friends seemed to understand each and every word I said. I was very happy. They mentioned that many of the Catalan churches were closed and their disappointment in not being able to photograph. I was very sorry for that. Then I talked about my wooden boat and so on. We talked about a lot of things and I drank a lot of local red wine, just to speak more fluently in English…

I don’t remember anything more.

I woke up some days later, in my humble castle, just in time to discover that Via Lucis had published a new post…

Its title: “All Hail Covetotop



My dear little bunch of digital friends: To be sincere, I must admit that I don’t own a castle, a motorboat, a torero suit, a classic car, an eco-friendly mean of transport other than my folding bicycle… Via Lucis, as some of you know, is an astonishing blog about Romanesque architecture. I actually had the pleasure of meeting its authors, PJ and Dennis Aubrey, and having lunch with them, a few days ago, in Catalonia. Now, they are not only my digital friends, but my friends in the real world as well.

They published in Via Lucis an hilarious, fanciful post called “All Hail Covetotop”. And I am overwhelmed. That’s also true.

And my telepathic English is very bad.


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A Cistercian cloister

In order to stretch one’s legs, nothing beats a Cistercian cloister from the 14th century.


The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “cloister” as “a covered path or hall with arches that is on the side of a building (such as a monastery or church) and that has one open side usually facing a courtyard”.

That’s right. A cloister is a covered path…

with lots of beautiful arches…

all of them filled with amazing tracery…


That’s stone work.

In these ossuaries (pic below) rest some important nobles and knights from the Middle Ages. They rode their battle horses two or three hundred years before Don Quixote rode Rocinante…

Don’t forget that, according to the Merriam-Webster’s definition, cloisters have “… one open side usually facing a courtyard”


That’s right too: my today’s cloister faces a courtyard…


A wonderful courtyard full of roses, lemons and oranges…

In this nice cloister there is also a “lavabo”…

A lavabo is the place where monks washed their hands before having lunch at the refectory (or dinning room). This one is even older than the covered path itself. It was built in the 12th century. It consists of an hexagonal structure covered by a six-ribbed vault, with a circular fountain under such ceiling.


Let’s go on with our stroll trough the cloister…

Facing the cloister you´ll find the chapter house (12th century too); Cistercian architecture at its best…


Cistercian is simplicity…


And light…

I hope that you, my dear reader, won´t fly away from this blog if I dare to say that hic est tuus paradisus ut vere ducit te ad paradisum.

Sorry. I couldn’t help saying it. It is a very nice cloister.


Now follow me in the utmost silence, and don’t panic, please. I am about to disclose to you an important secret…


Apart from arches, roses, oranges, lemons, ossaries, a chapter house and a lavabo, there are much more things in this very special cloister…


Things that nobody would expect to find in an austere Cistercian cloister…


Or should I say “beings” in stead of “things”?


Yes; “beings” is the correct word. The correct word to name my friends. Keep your mouth closed. They don’t know you yet, and they can get very angry and dangerous if they think that you are an obnoxious tourist. I take for granted that you, my dear reader, are not an obnoxious tourist wherever you travel, because tourists (of the obnoxious kind) don´t read my blog. They read standard tourist guides and visit crowded places. And you read my blog, ergo you are an intelligent and sensitive traveler, perhaps a dreamer, interested in solitary and unique places. Let me explain this important, undeniable and metaphysical fact to my friends…


Explained. Good news. You’re welcome.


You’re welcome as long as you don’t dare to make one of those silly and egocentric things called “selfie”. I am not kidding. Look the monster in the pic below. He ate of one bite a guy who attempted to take a selfie with him in the background…


Now let me introduce to you some other dwellers of this charming cloister.
This is the porter (do you see the keys?)…


This is one of those ubiquitous (in Romanesque/Gothic Art) guys known as “Green Men” (do you see the branches that sprout from his mouth?)


This is Mr. Reinard des Fonoll, sculptor. He worked in this cloister in 1330 or so. I don’t remember the exact dates because time flies and my memory is weak.

Lovely, very kind people all of them…


… as long as you don’t take selfies…


This cloister belongs to a Cistercian monastery located not very far away (barely a 1 1/2 h drive) from a marvelous city called Barcelona. As a matter of fact, Barcelona is such a marvelous city that it has become the fifth most popular tourist destination in Europe, just behind London, Paris, Berlin and Rome. The main consequence of such an impressive ranking is that you cannot take a tranquil and peaceful walk in Barcelona any longer.

Oh my! I’m thinking that if I blog about this charming cloister, the crowds of Barcelona will invade it very soon…


Don’t worry, my friends! I’m just kidding! The crowds will never invade this cloister! Remember that they don’t read my blog!


Ok. Let’s go on. Follow me. This is the monastery’s bedroom. Old monks slept here, on an immense, dense and soft bedding of straw.

The monastery had some quarters reserved for royal visits …


These are the only remains of the monastic kitchen…


East end of the monastery’s church. The rose window (circa 1190) contains the oldest Cistercian glass that has survived in Europe (i.e. the world):


The monastery has a second cloister (13th century). It is much more simple than the other one…


There is a melancholic fountain in its center…


If you walk a little further, you’ll find the remains of some ancient walls and arches. They belong to the primitive monastery.


The Chapel of the Holy Trinity is very old. In fact, it was the first church built in the monastery by the original monks. It is simple and unpretentious, but take my word for granted: a difficult to explain feeling of awe will invade you once you enter that sacred space…


You’ll experience a slightly different awe if you enter here:


It’s the monastery’s “modern” church…


By “modern” I mean 12th-14th centuries…


You’ll experience awe because it is an awesome place…

The construction of this church began in 1174…

It was consecrated in 1211…

It was photographed by Covetotop in 2017…


Latin cross plan. Three aisles. A symphony in stone.

This is the double tomb of King Jaume the Just and Queen Blanca d’Anjou (14th century)



This is the tomb of King Pere the Great (13th century)


This monastery is surrounded by an agreeable countryside.


It is difficult to imagine that here, somehow in the middle of nowhere, just crossing a humble door, you´ll find all the beauty and mystery that I have tried to share with you above, my dear reader…

Well, frankly speaking, the monastery’s doors and facades aren’t that humble…

As a mater of fact, this is a quite impressive monastery…


Just in front of the monastery there are a few houses (13th-18th centuries). It was the semi-claustral part of the monastery (old hospital, retired monks rooms, treasury, etc.)


Practicing mindfulness is absurd when you visit a Cistercian monastery like this one. You aren’t able to control your breath, your feelings, your heart…

I promised my friends from the cloister that I wouldn’t typewrite in my blog the name and location of this sacred and solitary place. And I’m keeping my word.

Yes; nothing beats a Cistercian cloister in order to stretch one’s legs.

And one’s soul.


Good bye!

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Josep Pla and his friends Josep Martinell and Salvador Dalí

Josep Pla was not a pop singer. He was a great writer. Consequently, he was never awarded with that pathetic bagatelle called Nobel Prize in Literature.


Salvador Dalí was a great painter. He loved to paint all sorts of weird and wonderful dreams in the discombobulating hut that you can see in the pic bellow…


I know it on good authority…


Dalí’s paintings were pretty expensive. Once he recommended to his colleague and friend Josep Martinell to change his surname: “Josep, if you want to increase the price of your paintings, you should italianize your surname by adding an “i” to it. That is “Martinelli” in stead of “Martinell”.

The poor Josep Martinell did not follow Dalí’s suggestion and, consequently, he sold his paintings at reasonable prices, specially to his hordes of friends …


Josep Pla was a very good friend of both Dalí and Martinell. The three of them were born -and lived their creative lives- facing the Mediterranean Sea, in Empordà, Costa Brava …

I got some inspiration for writing this little post from four old books that I like very much…
1.  “Vida secreta de Salvador Dalí” (“The secret life of Salvador Dalí”): An hilarious auto-biography written by a genius of Art.

2. “Obres de museu” (“Museum works”): It is a nice book written by Josep Pla about his friend Dalí. Dalí liked so much Pla’s text, that he drew 22 illustrations for it.

3. “Escrits d’ahir” (“Writings from yesterday”): A selection of articles previously published in local media, written by Josep Martinell.

4. “Josep Pla vist per un amic de Palafrugell” (“Josep Pla as viewed by a friend from Palafrugell”): A self-explaining title for a really charming book, written by Josep Martinell.

Sadly, only “The secret life of Salvador Dalí” is available in English. The other three books -those written by Pla and Martinell- are available only in Catalan. To be precise, such literary jewels, even in their original versions, are almost impossible to find in these illiterate times…


Llofriu is a nice rural village located very close to Palafrugell.


Josep Pla spent quite a few years of his productive live writing at his country home (called “Mas Pla”) in Llofriu. He died there on April 23, 1981.

There is a plaque/badge in Llofriu honoring its neighbor Josep Pla:

Very near of both Llofriu and Palafrugell there is a small fishing (they fish fishes and tourists, indistinctly) village named Llafranc …

On the beach of Llafranc you can see the traditional boats …


… and the traditional tourists …


There is a little harbor too …


By the way, in Llafranc lived (and died on June 6, 2013) Tom Sharpe, English novelist famous for his Wilt series. But this post is not about Mr. Sharpe. It is about Pla, Dalí and Martinell.

Josep Martinell enjoyed quite a few paellas here in Llafranc, at Llevant’s, facing the blue sea (pic below) …

Martinell was a very cultivated person, an avid reader (he particularly enjoyed French literature), a talented painter, designer, decorator, writer … and, above all, he was a very good person. I know it on good authority.

A street in Llafranc is named after Josep Martinell …

Pla, Dalí and Martinell, the three of them, belonged to a breed of Mediterranean creators that I am afraid left no heirs on this planet …

Dalí jewels

If, according to The Paris Review,  Josep Pla is “a well-kept secret of twentieth century European literature” … What would they say about Josep Martinell?

At least, and thanks God, Dalí reached the fame he deserved. His paintings shine in some of the best museums of the world.

With this unsubstantial, desultory and haphazard post I put an end to my unsubstantial, desultory and haphazard series on Josep Pla. It took me long time to get such a poor result, but it was really difficult for me to write in English about such a giant of Literature.

(Pic above: Josep Pla’s tomb, in the cemetery of Llofriu. Just below his name there is a simple word: “escriptor”, which means “writer”)


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Just another plain-vanilla post

This post will be brief. This post will be clear. There will be no intricacies here. No need to unravel hidden meanings or unfathomable philosophies. When a blogger (me) writes in a foreign language, a language that he speaks plus or minus cacophonously in an eerely frightening way (English) he’s forced (me again) to produce short, clear and simple sentences. In other words, plain-vanilla posts, like this one.

On the other hand, when somebody (me) writes in his own language (Spanish), the brain rejoices, the keyboard burns, grammar shines, phrases flow, philosophy grows,  confusion increases, chaos explodes and everything ends up mixed and messed up in an absurd thing called “a novel”.

Because of this novel (written in Spanish) in 2016 I have produced only one post (in English), for Covetotop’s blog.

Most probably my novel won’t be published and, consequently, nobody will read it. But at least I’m sure that my little bunch of loyal English-speaking digital friends will read these lines…

And I want to tell them in loud, short, clear and simple English: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Castilian Art

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