The Bubble Man - Madrid Memoirs

I am sitting in the centre of Plaza Mayor. It is a beautiful sunny day and I don't even need my jacket and scarf in the beginning of December. A gentle breeze caresses my hair and the warm light kisses my cheeks.I hear the recurring sound of a soft bell, and the chirping of sparrows above my head. The faint rumble of mixed voices and the sound of prams rolling on cobble stones fill my ears as I watch people peruse the Christmas market. They are selling ornaments, lights, figurines and ''jokes''. I imagine the former glory of this historical place, wondering how many memories this soul contains. How many lovers, friends, enemies and families have met here, kissed here, lived here. The incredible archways are open mouthed in awe of it's past and future endeavours. Somehow I always feel like things were more magical in the past. But then how can I deny the mixture of people that this age provides? Do we ever truly appreciate the present more so than the past?

The sky is my favourite shade of blue today. Two girls are sat on the cobbles beside the great statue of Felipe Tercero. Not only is it good to be young, but it is far more important to be young of soul. An old man cracks a baguette beside me and a young man on my left devours an apple. The core of la dolce vita is to enjoy the simple things in life. There is a man in a trilby creating large bubbles for the children as they jump exuberantly in the air trying to chase them as they throw him change for more delights. A spectrum of colour merged into an indescribable vision floating in the air catching the Spanish light. It bursts almost in slow motion, and the soapy liquid falls on squealing faces. The best part of me hopes that the Bubble man does that job mainly for these moments. Bringing joy and smiles to all who see. He takes a toddlers hand and creates a large bubble surrounding him. The little boy's face is filled with wonder as he experiences a world of 'La vie en rose'. Very few people get the chance to see life through rose coloured glass. At least after we have left the innocence of childhood. The mid of a child is a magical place. A place that should be real to us still. And today I feel like a child. I feel like I am in a playground and I don't want to leave just yet. Just 20 more minutes please... but I know full well that I do not hold that concept of time.

Photo by Me llamo Mackenzie