Seville, San Julián quarter, summer of 1982. We ended up in Seville. Thats Sofía and me. We rented a rooftop apartment in the San Julián quarter at number 6, Moravia Square. We were living on top of that aged, sun-baked, white-washed three-storey building. I have fond memories of that blazing heat and those garden hose showers, the geranium flower pots, the deck chairs where we melted in the sun, and Sofías breasts. At that apartment I had my fill of long waits for you, because, damn, you know I spent many an hour waiting for you. Waiting - waiting for women, waiting for men, waiting for stuff.
For the first time in English underground icon Fernando Mansilla's cult classic novel.
Taking a walk on the wildest side of Seville
