Plaça de l’Església

“The square, then, was my theatre, and my arena, and my gymnasium and my ring. Beyond the square was there the big wide world? Oh, the warm and golden May evenings! The old church, lit up by the sun, was shining like a golden candlestick. It was hot and beat like a great beast; it was sweet to touch like an old piece of ivory. Full of cracks and created years earlier, the whole building was a refuge of burning life. In each crack there was a nest; there was a beating heart beneath every stone: The whole sky buzzed with wings and chirps. Like black feathered darts, swifts sliced through the air. From the countryside came an oily smell, a smell that it was time. The ears of grain were milky and full and the crops were golden. Amongst the crops the violently bloody poppies broke out. The cherry trees boasted their fleshy fruit, shining and succulent rubies. It was the time of ripeness when all things live, love and tremble.”