La Bibliteca Nacional

There's something so scary about this place... so sickening, so frightening, so horribly invisible. Everything, from the concrete floor to the concrete walls to the concrete ceiling. And the windows, with different hues of translucent glass and the incomplete words in white, spilled paint. Words about agony, about shadows, about lies and crosses. Horrid words, cold words, dead words, but still so vibrant words. Different handwritings, but still the same, surrounding the enourmous concrete dark place. Funny thing, so many windows everywhere and yet so dark, so gloomy, so deeply and hopelessly obscure and haunting. Overwhelming emptiness. Gooseflesh. Shudders. Brr!