Once upon a time, in Seville.

I must thank the hostel owner for giving me the playlist he used to broadcast in his hostel. It damn reminds me of that wonderful afternoon, when everything was perfect: me, my buddy, two beers, on the terrace on the rooftop, sunbathing on our chairs, freely burping, and that psycho-electronic-flamencofunk (with a bit of brazilian samba) soothing our ears, cuddling us, and making us feel like in paradise. A paradise of perfection, of absolute relax, one of those moments that fill your heart with a bittersweet feeling, cause you KNOW that that moment will end, but still you wish that it would never happen. And you fall asleep in such moments, as quietly as only a little baby could do after a good meal and a sweet lullaby by its mother.
It was more than a sense of joy, though. It was also more than happiness, more than euphoria.
It was relief.
It was freedom.