Barcelona

Barcelona was my first trip abroad with friends, at the age of 17. At that time, I could just fall in love with her. After my stay over Madrid, I had the chance to visit some friends in the Catalan capital. Moreover, those were the days of the election for an independent Catalunya. Thus, I caught a Blablacar ride and, in a few hours, I was there. I didn’t let the plumbeous sky demotivate me, I just grabbed the camera and walked through the city and my memories.

A classic, high spot as Gaudí’s Park Guell seemed to be a good starting point, but I kept on walking over the surrounding hills. The city seemed very quiet from up in there, almost sleepy, after a strenuous summer. I knew it was just a facade, and rolling down the slopes, I found myself in the heart of the urban jungle.

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The cutting-edge shapes of the Olimpic Park clash with the dreamy forms of the Gaudi’s architecture, or the lysergic Dali’s production. In the same way, the commercial, tainted soul of La Rambla is saved, sometimes, by something real and original, as the Mercado de La Boqueria. 

My pilgrimage ended up in the Barcelona’s port, where the shiny yachts reflect the sparkling lights, and the luxurious life, everybody dreams while docking here.

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Photography: Matteo Fabi

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