It wasn’t geographical distance by itself which had helped put things into perspective, and not balloon recent events out of proportion. It was the fact that he was now living in the micro-cosmos of the Translators’ House and its peculiar micro-universe of the picturesque city of Tarazona that made him feel as if he were infinitely more distant from the hustle and bustle of Barcelona than the four hundred kilometres actually separating him from his problems. Tarazona was a frontier city, close to the provinces of Soria, Navarre and La Rioja, and it was a challenge to get there by public transport. To begin with, as he felt no desire to sit behind the driving wheel again, Ernest was obliged to take the Talgo to Saragossa from Sants station. Then he had to get a much more rickety train that left him in the small station of Tudela in Navarre, and from there a local bus that finally dropped him in Tarazona. Because of the delays, which he was told were quite normal, whether a result of snow, rain, accidents or striking workers, he’d failed to make his connections and spent hours and hours waiting in each station.
What do You think about A Shortcut To Paradise (2011)?
