In Gracia, the Barcelona neighbourhood in which I live, there is a square called “Rius i Taulet” where life is on parade. At a cafe, I order a bottle of Vichy Catalana which comes with and a glass of ice and a thick slice of lemon. I pour my water and prepare for the procession. Men and women on their way home from work carry bags of fresh produce from the nearby Llibertat Market. One woman has six baguettes and I wonder what she will do with all of that delicious bread. Two old women in matching floral blouses move slowly around the perimeter of the square, holding tightly onto each other’s arms (I know that I too will be old some day and hope I have a good friend to take walks with). A gaggle of little boys play soccer. They are loud and practically flying through the air. A few parents sit nearby on long wooden benches but no one interferes; Spanish kids must learn from their own mistakes. A little girl walks her dog… or it walks her. In every corner of the plaza, people are touching and laughing and kissing. I remind myself to come more often to this lovely clocktower square where life is always on parade.