For someone who craves the light, migrates to it lizard
like, my first impressions of the streets around where we live are not one of
the excited big camera wearing first time traveller to Barcelona, I have no
desire to spend hours wandering through these pathways discovering.
The tapestry of wooden windows, railings, washing, shutters,
and balustrades that I can see from our inner courtyard is beautiful because
the light has space to move about here. It plays it bounces.
The surrounding streets away from the park side and towards
Gotic are like being on a cargo ship, maybe not on the ship but waiting by the
dock, as we nearly are. Rows and rows of containers all pilled up high make
dark corridors. But unlike the docks the containers are not bolted up,
sometimes their personal contents spill out onto the street as billowing
sheets. Huge plants tumble out from tiny ledges of balconies, touching the
other side, stealing the white as it falls.
Glimpses of light appear at the end of rows where it has
squeezed past. Alone on your corridor you see ‘The Shinning’ like, people flit
past the ends, their voices carry towards you for a moment and then gone.
The streets are not at all scary, just dark. To me light is
what reveals beauty, so at present I cant see the beauty, I tend to head to the
sea and the open spaces.
But I know you need shading to reveal form. Maybe as
Barcelona heats up and I go to the studio, which is scorched in full light, I
will understand these dark piled high spaces and will be thankful.
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