The house where my father and his inexhaustible list of siblings were born, the same where his and I’d swear even my great-grandfather came into the world, is a street that has changed its name so many times that I’m not sure that he is still called Lluís Vives as he was until last week. I, like my Aunt Conxita, Aunt Crunch, until the end of her days as a vigorous centenarian, continue to refer to him as the original Vulcan. I have to adapt to the council’s changes in nomenclature. intolerable unwanted
Near la Perla, de Congost, del Cigne, Plaça del Diamant and right next to “l’acera fina” (for being one of the first to receive asphalt is what the older people continue to call Abdó Terrades that appears on Google Maps), this street Vulcano is my favorite street because of its fiery name and the history passed there (very much mine). The best of all the streets of this veteran Barcelona is in the deepest Gràcia. In that Gràcia, now fashionable, not only because of the famous festa major – actually an avalanche of people from other districts, who apparently can’t get enough of their own saraus, and of tourists who leave everything as shit: the they must have said that everything is fine here?-, but because it is not known how it has preserved a lot of charm. It must be because of the flair of the town that was and that the few old neighbors perpetuate. The ones of all life. Those natives of the neighborhood who, like Aunt Crunch, do not learn the new names of the old streets or the constant changes of direction or stops with which they torpedo their way.
But there is a novelty that can with them. And the fact is that the walls of their small houses that make up such a neighborhood are covered in dirty graffiti. Dirt, not art. Since the City Council only helps liquidate them if they carry intolerable messages (tourist go home is fine), the smartest aborigines of this beleaguered Gràcia begin to incorporate them. Make it clear that they do not mix with the beasts that they themselves add to it. But taking a risk at night with four painted paraulotos (they know they’ll be cleaned by flying) is much easier than spending the whole morning (one more) picking up white brushes. Clean or have the graffiti cleaned. This is the big question now.
