bigpoppa
Well-known member
There is No beauty here.
No God.
No inspiration.
In Barcelona, you're constantly surrounded by beauty, beautiful architecture, beautiful cities, beautiful art, beautiful girls.
As you stand there, in awe of the beauty and majesty all around you, you are reminded of god , and you feel small, humbled and somewhat insignificant, and at the same time you are inspired.
The old trope of the Italians and their motorvehicles being inspired by beautiful women, definitely has some truth to it.
You feel inspired surrounded by beauty, and beautiful women.
Here, everything looks the same, everything is sanitized, and plumb and square, and cold and grey and ugly.
The sun is rarely shining, and the girls are ugly.
I am convinced the cure for depression is sun and beautiful women.
You cant convince me otherwise.
No God.
No inspiration.
In Barcelona, you're constantly surrounded by beauty, beautiful architecture, beautiful cities, beautiful art, beautiful girls.
As you stand there, in awe of the beauty and majesty all around you, you are reminded of god , and you feel small, humbled and somewhat insignificant, and at the same time you are inspired.
The old trope of the Italians and their motorvehicles being inspired by beautiful women, definitely has some truth to it.
You feel inspired surrounded by beauty, and beautiful women.
Here, everything looks the same, everything is sanitized, and plumb and square, and cold and grey and ugly.
The sun is rarely shining, and the girls are ugly.
I am convinced the cure for depression is sun and beautiful women.
You cant convince me otherwise.
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