From the dense, noisy traffic around Plaça Espanya, plagued by motorbikes taking advantage of the smallest gap to slip between the cars and taxis moving slowly forward like zombies awaiting a potential victim, they’d come in barely fifteen minutes to the wide expanses of Avinquda Sarrià: they cro...
It had been a leaden, rainy Sunday, as gray as a Berlin winter, matching Sílvia’s mood; she had barely said two words all day. César had never been too good with sick people and he preferred to be left alone when he wasn’t well. So when Sílvia rejected his attempts at conversation, claiming she w...