Don’t look. Close your eyes. It’s staring at you, it’s playing games with your mind. Don’t do it, dare you to keep walking. No. Have to stop. Have to look. It’s magnetic. It’s pulling me. I’m attached to a strong string, and it’s wheeling me in. The mannequins in the glass window look too cute. They are waving at me to enter. Their clothes are too perfect. Ilove them. I want them. I need them.

I step into the store, and I rummage through the clothes leaping at me from their hangers. I try them on, and I smile at the happy reflection staring back at me from the mirror. The clothes cling to my skin and beg for me to buy them. I can’t say no. I can’t say goodbye.

So, I walk to the counter, pull out my cash, and make the scary purchase. New clothes to be hung in my closet, and new outfits to be worn at night.

All of my life, I have loved shopping. A new pair of pants or a sexy dress always brings a smile to my face. Living in Europe, however, has deepened my shopping cravings to a whole new level. The style here is so wild, so unique, so free. Anything goes in this fantastic, vibrant city, and that has given my incentive to buy more and explanation for my impulsive purchase behavior. The stores here are all amazing and beam rays of light to my curious eyes, and the brands are all different from the United States.

Walking down Las Ramblas roads, Passeig De Gracia, El Born and more are all fun hobbies of mine. I love to explore the streets and wander the shops. I hope that when I return home to the United States, I will bring a new flavor, a new zest with me. This Barcelona style is so interesting to me, and it will always be a small part of me.

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