I think I've flown into Barcelona 5 or 6 times now. In order to land at the airport, all planes must fly along the coastal border, taking view of the entire cityscape. While it is a pretty city to fly into, this morning was the prettiest I have seen the city.
At dawn's light, we passed over the Pyrenees. The stretched light hitting the snowy peaks giving off a heavenly, rose glow. Once we reached the city we circled a couple of times over the Mediterranean and glided along the city's coastal front where I was able to see my neighborhood, the Gothic Quarter, with its narrow maze of streets that I know so well.
The city itself is a mosaic of whites, pinks and adobe reds beautiful to behold and hard to forget.
It feels good to be back home. This is my reality here. That's a nice thing to have a home where only my crap is strewn about exactly the way it is meant to be.
Write a song ladies and gents. My heart belongs to Barcelona.
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