Bob Dylan himself was scratching his guitar and croaking away in the corner of this brightly lit bar as she threw the lit butt on the floor and didn’t even step on it with her long boots of Spanish leather. Bubba observed this scene and wondered how often there were fires on the floors of the bars in Spain. What with all that paper, cigarettes and grease… surely it’s a common occurrence? Yet, from what he had heard by the locals, the quality of a bar is dependent on the amount of rubbish on it’s floors. The more rubbish, the more popular the bar, hence the better the place to be. How fitting then, he thought, if there are little fires on floors, in small bars, being put out and set alight again by proud people who like to eat every bit of a pig you can imagine, while discussing life, death and death and … death.
…to be continued…
(tune in next time to be enlightened more about Spain, witness Bubba introduce himself to Juana and her long boots and join us in musing at Tom Waits´s and Camaron’s brief multimedia cameo appearances.)
