In 9 hours, I’ll be on a plane heading back to London. I’m sad to be leaving, because it feels as though I’ve only managed to catch a glimpse of this richly layered city.
Time has passed both quickly and slowly here.
Before Barcelona, it had never occurred to me to think of time as multiple entities. But now, it seems so obvious. Time is the thud of a kick drum, a steady and deliberate heartbeat, with the space between each beat just as important as the beat itself. Yet time is also the groundswell of momentum from the toms, the sharp highlights of a snare, the occasional shimmer of the cymbals.
Barcelona has given me so much in such a short period, but it will be this lesson - the rhythms of time - that will stay with me, no matter how long it takes me to return again.