Dearest Madrid,

Being in love with a city you have to leave is worse than being broken-hearted. A lover may leave you but a city won't. It lives inside you forever.- madrilovegood

This is a love letter to a city.

I remember the first time we met, over 3 years ago. I fell for your architecture, and the curves of your streets, and your almost too hot heat in the summertime. It was a sweltering July and I was reeling from the previous months, revelling in the goodness, and avoiding the sneaking reality that I would be leaving soon. I came back for you, didn't I? I didn't know it then, but I would. I fell for you all over again, but we are not ill-fated, star-crossed lovers. We carry a history.

Your people, stacked upon terraces, laughing, dancing, drinking, kissing, ever-moving. Loud voices recounting stories, melting pot of people, bright orange sun soaking the city in it's glory, what is it, 300 days of sun? I've gotten lost in you a few times but I always made my way around. I think I've learned fairly well by now. I remember how apprehensive I was at first, and I think back on it and laugh a little, because now you feel like home. I remember hearing your musical language, so foreign and quick to me, and I tried to blurt the words out, but they were so awkward in my mouth, stuck to my tongue like glue, they didn't sound smooth or fluid like I had hoped. They still get sloshed around a bit but I try, they come a little easier now, without much premeditation.

I get another year filled with ups and downs with you, to run around your streets, laugh and dance through your nights, explore your secrets.