Winter in Minnesota is pretty especially when it is new. When the first snow falls, and you remember just how eerily quiet the world can get. Snow under streetlights, sparkling, frosted branches, the purity of untouched white. Fast forward, however, and the snow piles on, melts, re-freezes, incorporating dirt and grass and sleet. The snow melts, mixes with mud, everything is gray. I left Minnesota in March and I can’t say I was too sad to go.
Arriving in Barcelona, I pressed my nose to the taxi window for the duration of the 30 minute ride to the heart of city, taking in blues and greens and golds that I had long forgotten existed in the dark monotony of winter. Spring has come early to Barcelona, and me? I’ve been collecting colors here, gleeful, greedily photographing them, tucking them away for memory, watching my own transformation as my skin tans, my hair lightens, life comes back.