Member-only story
The Lure of the Passageway
It wants you to explore
There’s something special about alleyways. They speak of possibility. Wend your way along those cobbles or stone slabs, and what will you find?
I traveled to Barcelona with fellow art students when I was 18. Packed like sardines for what seemed like an age, we longed to clamber from the coach that was our prison.
And when we emerged, worse for wear and bleary-eyed, excitement filled my bones. The streets were full of nooks and crannies. Passageways called to me from each direction, and I ached to explore.
The prize that waited along every path differed from the last. A sweet-scented orange grove, pungent and ripe with life. Or an obscure art gallery hosting an array of fabulous paintings and sculptures lay in wait.
My memories hold a cacophony of sounds. The click-clack of hooves. Violin strings pining for a lost love, followed by the clink of coins in an open case. Laughter, quarreling lovers, and footsteps on cold stone take me back to winding paths.
Flashes of color greet me as I recall that visit too. There is a gold and cerulean sunset on canvas carried by two brown-skinned young men with their shirt sleeves rolled high. A tabby cat as he winds himself around my ankles like water twines about a rock.
