barcelona is full of cavities. i love the weary industrial remains of poble nou or poble sec, the empty, windowless weddingcake castles of older parts of the eixample. even though the city pains itself in presenting a dazzling and sophisticated face for tourists and urban consumers (formerly known as citizens), barcerlona can't really help herself from exposing her dirty bottom every now and then. i love the for sale signs popping up everywhere like bad weeds, hinting at the housing crisis that should sooner or later have spain by the balls. i love the failed attempts at wiping the naughty away in sake of tourists (the raval, or the little "forest" in glòries that still caters to midnight–even midday–cruisers in search of a quick fix, despite being right next to nouvel's cucumber)(actually, it probably serves as inspiration to do the nasty). i love the after-tourist dawns down the ramblas or the gótico, with the day's refuse piling up, and the fresh stench of piss and guts.