in Barcelona

This is a city that breathes. I feel its breathing, its heart beating. When the metro run past underground, the whole building shakes as the city exhales. There is a low rumble, quiet vibration, slight tremble. I’d like to think this is the heart beat of God. I live next to his heart, I am in his atrium. I feel the opening and closing of his valves. God is a breathing being. I am breathing with him. 

 

I coughed through the entire night. Waking up almost every 20 minutes, but i feel well-rested. It feels like I have medicated for an entire night. I was held, wrapped, enclosed in the heart of God, between the walls of his heart, breathing to his steady heart beat. His breath, the breath that made me, now keeps me afloat, sustains me, warms, reminds me that the world is not just a place with walking bodies but also wandering souls of wonder. I wander with his wonder, and a wonder for him. 

 

This is a city with a soul. No doubt there is a crack here, there is a shadow there, but there is also light, there is also the evidence of mending. A lady, badly beaten, with swollen lips, limp motionless torso, and a broken heart, lying just off the side street of the Rambla. She is used and mis-mused, abandoned and abused. I wonder when was the last she laughed, she felt loved, she was held by another soul, the last time someone kissed her, the last time she had a home cooked meal. I see a couple kissing in the square at mid night. The street lights and the moon light is only just bright enough to see the outlines of their faces. I wonder what brought them here, to Barcelona? An old couple stumbles, hand in hand, through these gothic quarters. I wonder if they own one of these flats above with terraces, whether they know the people living across from them because the terraces are so close that i bet they could share a meal if they only stretch out their arms. I wonder how many times they have walked this street. Whether it feels just as magical to them as it does to me now, perhaps more? 

 

I wake to the breathing of this city, the heart beat of God. 

 

This is a city that doesn’t sleep. This is a city that is bustling at 9pm, hits the bar and club at 10, busy dancing at 11pm. Still chatting and lingering at 12am, walking home at 2am. This is a young city.