The shadow of the Real Alcazár de Sevilla‘s battlement crept along the cobblestones as the earth slowly turned its back to the sun. A child’s laugh echoed from somewhere in the labyrinth of the Barrio de Santa Cruz, the usually-bustling old Jewish quarter. Horse-drawn-carraiges and their drivers waited a few more minutes to see if they could squeeze in one last tourist before the day ended. No one came. The city streets were eerily empty that chilly afternoon, but they left me satisfied and warm. Many of my favorite moments in Sevilla were spent in solitude, unencumbered by the noise or plans of companions, happily lost both in thought and in the shadowy, cobblestoned streets. Sevilla is transcendent, especially during moments of transience.
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