Noon in Catalonia

The afternoon is hot, the wine is red, and nobody seems particularly concerned about either.

A dry wind blows through the narrow alleys of the Gothic Quarter, carrying the salt of the sea and the sound of a dozen conversations happening at once. Plates are passed, glasses are filled, and the hours begin to lose their importance.

There is still work to be done, of course. But surely it would be terribly uncivilised to let that interfere with lunch.