When someone says Barcelona you immediately think of summer, walks on the Rambla, beaches and night life, and sun, sun and more sun.
That’s what I think about most of the times too. The first time I went there was for a summer holiday, and I have very good memories of the hot weather and the blinding sun. I went back to Barcelona on more occasions since then, and I had the pleasure to see it during different times of the year. I saw this splendid city in winter twice and the vision of it has stayed in my heart ever since. A totally different winter from the ones I am used to here on the mountains, yet still a very charming one.
It’s not a secret that I love cold weather. I love rain, grey skies, snow, wearing scarves, coats and boots. But I especially love winter light. Colder and crisper yet more delicate, almost like a gift during a dark season.
That’s what I like best in my city, Torino: rain and mist and cold. And that’s what I liked best in Barcelona too: crisp morning light, almost deserted street, wet pavements with dew.
I miss this Barcelona. I had wished I could go there during Christmas holidays but airlines are making it harder (just impossible to find any reasonable prices even with low cost companies and searching on different airports and dates… hate them more and more!), so I am obliged to put it off. With great disappointment and sadness.
The Lonely Walkers photographic project will go on Tumblr with a winter version, but just not as Emma and I had imagined at the beginning of this autumn. I like to think that this is because our own cities still have some stories to tell us both, and before switching visions they want to be heard and told.