Word: barcelona
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...Boston. I had been to Europe before, but never for very long and always on vacation. Coming home would let me process what I had seen, situating my experiences comfortably among the memories of my past travels. With a deepening grin, I would tell my friends and relatives that Barcelona, where I once spent four days in high school, was my favorite city. For years, I have resisted returning to Barcelona because part of me wants to preserve that idyllic image. But I have few memories of the week I spent in London as an eight year old, so when...
Miro, in Spanish, means ''he saw'' -- an absurdly good name for a painter. Joan Miro died 10 years ago, and 1993 marks the centenary of his birth. It has been celebrated by a number of exhibitions in Spain, where the centerpiece was a large retrospective in Barcelona. This week an even bigger Miro show goes on public view at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City: 291 paintings, drawings, sculptures and ceramics, put together by art historian Carolyn Lanchner. Miro got his first retrospective, at MOMA, more than half a century ago, and now he is getting...
...animal species, and so ... traditional in its treatment of another? In part, the answer lies with the Project's own rationale for singling out great apes. "They are animals with highly developed intelligence and emotional capacity," says Marta Tafalla, a law professor who specializes in animal rights at Barcelona's Autonomous University. "They have curiosity, they feel affection and jealousy, they lie, and they suffer horribly when they are deprived of their freedom." The same argument is harder to make when it comes to bulls...
...that single moment of stillness—standing there as the world races by—Barcelona has become a part of me, burrowed deep down inside. And I doubt it will ever leave. —Molly M. Strauss '11, a Crimson editorial editor, is a resident of Winthrop House...
...live, not by minutes but by moments. In the States, time feels like it’s bearing down on me: I’m always running late, I should be eating lunch already, and I can’t possibly get it all done. But in Barcelona, every second is an opportunity. It’s noticing the one cracked tile on a mosaicked café tabletop. Or the crooked-toothed smile of that 20-something-pierced-lip chica on the Metro. Or the sickly-sweet way your mouth feels after a sip of horchata. It?...