I missed my grandfather today. I wished he could've been here in Barcelona with me. To show me the places he knew. That were his.
I've always felt that Barcelona was mine. Not mine in a possessive sense. In the way that a certain style is yours, or a habit. Barcelona was mine.
But today I had that sense that he was missing. This city where he had grown up. Where he had lived. That was his. Here I was just reminiscing about every day I'd spent here, without him. Without him as a guide or a mentor. And now he was missing.