David and Goliath Sculpture by Antoni Llena

I've always wondered how a sculpture that resembles a kite can be called David and Goliath. Well, maybe if we frame a tiny human shape next to the tripod then everything makes sense. This sort of War of the Worlds machine marching ominously along Plaça dels Voluntaris (yes, not as catching a word as the original "Surrey") was made by Antoni Llena for the Olympic Games in 1992. The day was foggy and not picture friendly but that doesn't mean we have to stay at home. I hope you like it come what may.

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Barcelona Trees, Our City Lungs: Green Awareness, Health and Other Musings

Barcelona is a city of trees. Of course not as exuberant as we would like but enough to add a note of color, clean up the smog a bit and make people more environment-aware. Catalans care about green. You could say trees are part of the urban furniture. There are plenty of parks in Barcelona and Parc de la Ciutadella in this picture is one of the most emblematic and visited. I have to confess our respect for nature is not as profound so as to go and stretch our bodies standing around a tree so this particular group called my attention. My first thoughts were that it was some kind of pagan ritual calling the powers of Earth and trees in this case cause the man who was leading the exercise was waving at me not to take the picture. Perhaps I was interfering in their concentration. I guess it was only part of some yoga routine. By the way, I read that in Feng Shui, trees represent strength and are considered a source of protection. Whatever the reason they gathered round the trunk for, you have to admit that it was a healthy thing to do much more attractive to the eye that a drunkard sleeping in a nearby bench. Yes, my friends, trees, our city lungs, can filter the air but they won't do miracles!

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Under The Arc de Triomf

Sometimes we cross through gates unknowingly because the door is totally irrelevant but going under the Arch of Triumph (Arc de Triomf in Catalan) is an odd experience. It is silly to feel a certain thrill just by walking under a bunch of bricks but there must be some kind of inner chip that senses history when approaching a monument, that makes us pretend we are a Roman soldier entering the city while fellow citizens wear laurel wreaths on their heads and make the victory sign with their fingers. Well, you know what I mean, you don't remain indifferent while approaching a majestic building like this and you get carried away. In the early morning sun silhouettes of passers-by are drawn mysteriously into another dimension, into the gates of history.