La Pedrera

It was boiling hot. The city’s voice echoed in a mix of different accents. It was hard to move our bodies since the afternoon sun seemed to chase everyone with its powerful rays of light while people would chase monuments as if bargains they were. There were only a few, including me, that found a place, protected by the shadow of trees, where we could enjoy the heat of the day in a relaxing way, sitting on the grass.
Some talked, others played cards, I was reading while she, she was photographing. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her red shinning hair tied up in a pony tail; the way her white white skin had little drops of sweat, as if she had just bathed, she was fresh like the water she drank during her now and then pauses to observe the immense crowd.
There I was, next to La Pedrera, when the lightening struck. The moment when the camera film hit the grass and our eyes met. Her green smiling eyes looking through my big brown eyes.
I grabbed the film and handed it to her; my heart trembled. ‘Gracias! Soy Lily!’ she said and so, in that precise moment, the most sweet and wonderful conversation began. For what seemed like eternity – in the good sense – a magical and unique connection took place.
Her calm yet appealing voice kept me focused all the time. The words she spoke were witty; she smelled like jasmine.
‘So tell me Andrew, what brought you here?’ the girl asked, ‘Barcelona has always attracted me; its heat, happy people and beautiful art’ I said, ‘Now you’re hiding something from me! Tell me what it is that you really hope to find here, in this corner of the earth?’ she insisted, but how, how could she know that, I dream of the day when I can really feel the people, the air, the smell of things, without caring about time nor consequences. I admitted to her, opening my heart, for the first time.
She smiled and ran towards the café’s white metal tables and chairs.
‘I’m thirsty, aren’t you?’ she wasn’t really expecting an answer. The waiter came and once again she took control ‘Dos cervezas, uno pan con jamón', I smiled. Lily was taking off something from her back pack when the two beers and the cured ham sandwich arrived, a collection of pictures taken by her. She was thrilled for having me interested in her work. Most of the pictures were portraits. I was amazed how she came up with a story for each individual. Spontaneously, while she started to photograph, I began to imagine a story, a life plot for each character I picked out of the crowd – asking myself whether they felt love, pain or blindness.
‘Hey, Andrew, smile!’ the girl clicked. I was hers, like the photo she had just taken. She knew it.
‘Let’s runaway’ she laughed without being sure I had understood what she meant she stood up and dragged me. We ran from the café. Still shocked by her daring, I admired her. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, not knowing where she was leading me, ‘I have to be on a train in like ten minutes’ she answered, ‘Ok, so can I see you tomorrow?’ I hoped. The first response was a laugh, ‘Of course we may see each other again, just not tomorrow; I’m heading to Paris’. I felt a pain in my stomach, no longer a pleasing one, it was more like a huge elephant’s foot smashing my entrails.
The girl stepped onto the train, this once wearing a different kind of smile. ‘See you, American boy! Hope you find what you really want!’ she said, waving to me. The train started to leave the station; I had only time to scream ‘I already did!’
There she went, the girl of my dreams. A soft breeze swirled and the most incredible thing is that when we said farewell, we knew we would never see each other again.