Barcelona’s industrial port hazy from Montjuïc, its slopes invaded by these purple flowers – morning glory from Central America. Their seeds are, I’m told, a hallucinagenic similar to LSD. I failed to see the pair of peregrine falcons that hunt from the cliffs below

Lights twinkling in Barcelona harbour in a darkening sky from Montjuïc Castle. The cannons behind, designed for war, re-signified clambering with children. The Mercè festival was about to kick off.