📍Seville, Andalusia — Late Afternoon

Seville feels endless.
Every street leads to another, unfolding like a story with no final chapter.

By late afternoon, I reach Triana—flamenco’s heart, the city’s soul.
Hunger tugs; I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

Chalkboard menus crowd the doorway of La Cucaña Triana. Every inch is alive with curling script, daily specials, and bold promises of tapas, wine, and house favorites. They read like chaotic, irresistible love letters to Andalusian cuisine.

A man with windswept hair catches my hesitation.
“Amigo, don’t worry!” he calls out, his laughter vanishing into the swell of the crowd.

I breathe in. The warm air—thick with olive oil, garlic, and salted cod—pulls me inside.
I can’t tell if it’s only hunger,
or just Seville.