This week, Union Jacks unfurled over the streets of London to celebrate the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. This week, the Olympic torch reached Mount Snowdon, tragedy struck in Nigeria and Mitt Romney become the official Republican candidate.
This week, for me, marked another extraordinary journey into Catalonia in northern Spain. Fresh from Morocco, with the sand of the Grenadines still scattered across my shoes, I revisited old friends, like Barcelona, and ventured into new territory by descending into damp and darkened cava cellars.
My notebooks and my hard drives now mirror my mind: brimming, buzzing and bursting with stories just waiting to be told.
On Monday, I watched these women sculpt sand in Barcelona. Since then, I’ve reunited with an old school friend, caught up with my now grown-up brother, travelled to Afghanistan through the images of Steve McCurry and dined on edible flowers.
But what struck me as I returned to Barcelona today was just how quickly other things change.
On Monday, only a few shapes had emerged from this colossal block of sand. By Sunday, a whole orchestra had appeared.
One week, this week, every week. Somewhere, someone in the world is creating something beautiful.