I’m reading one of the most beautifully written books I’ve ever read, The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón.
I actually read it before alongside my dad. He had his copy in Dutch, I had mine in English, both translated from the original Spanish. It’s about a man who discovers a mysterious book and becomes obsessed with finding its author and uncovering what happened to him, all set against the streets of Barcelona.
And we were reading it while we were actually in Barcelona.
There was this one moment where we were sitting together on a square, eating manchego and reading. At some point we both looked up at the buildings around us, and my dad suddenly went, “I think this chapter takes place… right here?”
By complete coincidence, we were at almost exactly the same point in the book.
So we put the books away and started walking through Barcelona, following the streets and places from the descriptions in the chapter.
My father passed away three months ago, and this memory came back to me while reading this again. Sitting together on that square, realizing that the story we were both reading was unfolding in the streets around us, and then going off to explore them together.
It was already an incredible book. Now it’s one I don’t think I could ever separate from him.
Just felt like sharing that.
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