Apartment with loft and large terrace in Calafell.

It passed an odd thing the first day: I opened the windows and the air gazed me. It did not blow, or entered —looked me. As if it asked me if it stayed me for a time or for aye. Here the mornings have rate of slow coffee and diary forgotten. Have lunch with sun at the face is not any luxury, is the official schedule of the home.

The days pass how who listens an old disk: slowly, with details. At the attics, everything is distinct. I climb to disconnect and end connecting with me. It is a place that invites at commencing projects, at ending novellas, at mourning for the just motif and laugh without cape. And the terrace… the terrace is a festival of light.

They pass improvisational barbecues, long calls and comfortable silences. The sea views afar, but no enough how to forget you . Live here does not request you nothing, but gives you a lot