sent from: El Barco De Avila, Spain. destination: New York, New York, USA

Madrid.
Over the din of the party of schoolchildren on the train chanting, singing, taking photos and posturing, a pan-flute struck up a tune. The children turned and laughed at the player. After a verse I picked out the tune; “My Way”. I’d heard it earlier today already, on the Metro, this time on the guitar. Every busker’s individual way was, apparently to play the same tune.
You heard it all over the streets too, everyone singing the same tune – job loss, the threat of it, the alternatives, everyone looking for a way, anyway, my way.