I'm part of a queer transfeminist choir. Some weeks ago we went to Portbou, where I used to spend the summer with my grandma when I was a kid, all my childhood. I keep going back to this magical weird place and it never gets old. It's the last village at the catalan coast, next to France. This time we were staying at Villa Antonia, an old house that a friend runs as a place for feminist and antifascist group meetings. We sang a lot, practiced our songs for hourrrrs, played a concert at the seaside, sang more, visited the Walter Benjamin memorial and the cemetery, sang a bit more, cooked, danced, played games, took a bath at the beach and went back home exhausted, aphonic and happy to have spent a couple of days with this beautiful people in this beautiful and deeply loved place.

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