That 17th of July, like every day since it was hot again, and like every year, Catherine and Allan went sunbathing in Barcelona. After a while, when they had had enough, they grabbed their umbrella and a pack of card: they set up the former and played with the latter. After noon they put away…
He was walking along the stands in Passeig de Gràcia when he saw her from afar. He remembered that 23rd of April of 2008 when his Catalan girlfriend told him about the book and the rose tradition for Saint George’s day. Unfortunately, that year they weren’t in Catalonia, and they didn’t make it to April…
—How is it going? —It looks nice; but hold the trumpet up, it’s going down. —What did you expect? I’ve been like this for almost forty minutes. You can be glad I’ve got the book on my breasts. It’d be on the floor now otherwise. —Support as many things as you can on them while…
[Collective stories (Relats conjunts) is a Catalan blog that provides bloggers with a monthly picture to inspire a short story to share.] “Dear Prince, I am grateful indeed for your beating the dragon and freeing me from that tower where those bandits held me prisoner. Your heroic and selfless gesture of rescuing a plebeian maiden…
