They’d stood on the remains of the majestic Viejo bridge, which had defended the town for eight hundred years before twentieth-century man had blown away its heart during the Civil War. It was in the final stages of rebuilding now, and almost restored to its former glory. ‘This is what they say they’re going to do in Girona, to restore the old monuments and buildings,’ Joana said. ‘But for now what they’re doing is more about pulling down everything that’s old and building completely new.’ ‘They’ll protect the real old town, though?’ ‘Oh yes, and maybe one day they’ll clean its poor old face and make it look like this,’ Joana said, wistfully, looking around at the beautiful yellow stone of Besalú’s town walls. She stood for a long time watching the river Fluvià as it flowed away below them, its waters low and sluggish now, at the end of this dry summer. Then she took Martin’s arm, and they strolled together through the stone gates into the untouched stone streets.
What do You think about Autumn In Catalonia (2015)?
