Finding Love in Barcelona

love in barcelona 的圖片結果a mother, showing affection to her children in Barcelona, photo from online…

The experiences of finding that first love, and, the understanding that the woman gained, after they’d parted, translated…

I was only nineteen, when I’d visited Barcelona, a very intoxicating city. But back then, I’d not felt the supposed “Passions of the Spanish Locals”. In this city, I was, all alone, only as I strolled down streets of Catalonia, did I feel, the heat, minimally. The street performers, the paintings of painters, those old book stands, the antique shops, there were, many different surprises for me to discover every single day.

One day, I’d, walked into the crowd of the streets of Catalonia, but, I found myself, stopped, in front of a youth who was painting. Such, an intriguing young man! I stayed and watched him paint, until the dusk came, and, my moods had also, receded, to below the horizon too. He will be here again tomorrow? I’d, hoped.

As that young man had entered into my sight at dusk every day, it’d given me something to look forward to in Barcelona. One day at sunset, as he was half way done painting, the dark clouds slowly, approached, and, the light drizzles, greeted his art, made the strokes spread out. I’d gotten worried, blurted out at him, “May I help you out?”, without thinking too much, he’d, nodded.

The sparks of love was, nourished by the rain, we’d started, finding that love we shared. I’d learned, that his name was, Olivier, twenty-years-old, was a college student, made his living off of painting.

not my photo…

When we were together, we’d sometimes gone strolling at the artistic Park Güell, sometimes, we’d, gone on a whim, and went window-shopping at the antique shop close by. That, was the first time I’d discovered, just how colorful Barcelona can be, the very first time, I’d not felt, lonely. And still, our days spent together, were counted down, and although we’d, cherished every moment we had together, but we’d still, held on tightly to each other, as the night fell.

The very last day, he’d taken me to Sagrada Família, and, as we were there, on our ways, to another tower, by the bridge, I saw the city beneath my feet, I was, overcome with sorrows. The passionate Barcelona, dyed, with that scent of sorrows, and, this scene, wasn’t, eternal, but, with the intentions of eternity ascribed to it.

Or maybe, sadness was, a definite. But, who’s able to, grab a hold on to eternity forever? Or maybe, after I’m older, I’ll realize, that love is like riding the trains, I’d needed to, pass through, several stations, before I reached, my final destination, that I couldn’t, stay because I enjoy the sceneries at one station because I’d not wanted to let go. And, Olivier is only, a small station, but, a very, unforgettable one………

the entire city is a canvas…not my photograph…

So, this was, the end of your journey, and, the two of you must part ways, and, because you fell in love, we’d, not wanted to, but, you must, and, just like the writer said, that this special young man, was only, a small station that she’d made a short stop at in her long, long life, and, she’s bound to, have a ton of experiences of love I’m sure, it’s just, that he was, her first, and, you always save that special place for your first love.

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