Barcelona | Love at sunset

| Love at sunset. When Gaudi's curves are gilded, the whole city begins to speak love 🌇 The violence and openness of daytime Barcelona in the morning belongs to the paranoids— The Nativity facade of the Sagrada Familia lit up in amber at 08:32. Those are the contour lines drawn by God through Gaudi’s hands; Climb up the abandoned quarry on Caramel Mountainside, Watch the Mediterranean wind crashing against Columbus' fingertips, The whole city is like an overturned kaleidoscope. You can’t count how many times you have been moved by this Klein blue. ☕ Slow motion in the afternoon The Gothic Quarter is taking a nap at 14:00. The medieval sweat seeps through the cracks in the stone slabs, The wandering guitarist played the shadows into waves; Enter the Four Cats Cafe on the edge of Plaça Reial Square. Order a cup of Catalan cream coffee, Look at the wooden chair where Picasso sat, casting an eyelash-like shadow on the ground. At this moment, even time chooses to bend down, Slipping sideways through the cracks in the glazed tiles. 🌄 Magical moment at dusk 17:43, go to Montjuic to steal some light—— The water column of the magic fountain rises into the sky wrapped in the sunset, It turned into thousands of broken diamonds and fell; The street performers on Las Ramblas put away their paint boxes, Put the last bit of gold powder on the ends of your lover's hair; The sailboats on the Little Barcelona beach are cutting through the rosy sea. Someone wrote on the beach with bread crumbs: "Barcelona te estima" (Barcelona loves you) The next second, it was rolled into eternity by the waves. 🍷 The honest time after dark At 21:17, the neon lights of the Boqueria Market began to lie. And the candlelight in the corner tavern chooses to confess— A Catalan girl teaches you how to toast with "Txapeldun". Sherry mixed with ham fat dances flamenco on the tip of your tongue; Walk through the twisted, colorful rooftops of Santa Caterina Market, The moonlight turns the iron pot of paella into a silver plate, Even the spire of the Sagrada Familia is slightly drunk now, Under the starry sky, his blunt angles are childlike. This city is good at tampering with memory with dusk—— I remember the old lady selling flowers at the subway entrance as the Virgin Mary. Listen to the broken guitar of the wandering artist as a symphonic poem. When the last twilight sank into the sea level, You will suddenly understand Gaudi's madness: All straight lines belong to humans, And the curve and the dusk, A never-ending love affair with Barcelona.