The art of not forgetting in Barcelona
We’re running late. By the time we have woven through central Barcelona’s warren of alleys and plazas to reach Plaça de Sant Felip Neri, the square’s entrance is fenced off by a flimsy yellow barricade. Beyond, a dozen schoolkids squeal and chase a ball over the grimy paving stones, dodging around a dormant fountain where a lone girl sits. Except for a few leafless trees, nothing dampens the crack as the ball ricochets against the façade of the Sant Felip Neri church, its sandstone rudely gouged...