When I was planning and thinking about Barcelona, I had no doubt that I would return, at least once, to Madrid. Anyone who reads or has read some of the entries in this blog from a few years ago will know that going to Madrid was a big part of my life, even if it was encapsulated in two months’ time. This is the entry from my personal journal the day that I left Madrid: The universe has a funny way of trying to make sense of itself. Or maybe it’s not that; maybe it’s just mocking our attempts to make sense of it. Either way, as I lie here tonight, I have to smile. I’m lying here in this room for the last time, and things are very much as they were the first night I spent here, two months ago. The shelves are empty, I’m lying on a bed with no sheets (I took them off to clean them and they’re still not dry), and I’m staring at the orange square of light cast through the window from the street. It’s as if careful measures have been taken t...