DEAR BARCELONA,
I want to thank you for the past three years of my life — for introducing me to vermouth and pickpockets, and sunburn in February, and cycling home on a broken red bike at 2 AM. For showing me the beauty of three-course meals for 11 euros, for Catalan barbeques with giant onions dripping in sauce, and for Correfocs street parties with costumed participants carrying fireworks through the old streets.