Day Three

On the train for magical Bruxelles in about 49 minutes - let's hope it lives up to the promise of the last time: Until then, some more Hemingway for your TFI:

The fiesta was really started: It kept up day and night for seven days: The dancing kept up, the drinking kept up, the noise went on. The things that happened could only have happened during a fiesta. Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any consequences. It seemed out of plqce to think of consequences during the fiesta. All during the fiesta you had the feeling, even when it was quiet, that you had to shout any remark to make it heard. It was the same feeling about any action. It was a fiesta and it went on for seven days.