I was tired from the warm rocking of the train. I stood at the station in Figueres waiting on my wife to come out of the bathroom and a short story idea was running through my head. I was inspired. I had walked the streets Jean Genet had walked when he wrote The Thief's Journal. I knew at the top of the hill another treasure waited.
We got lost, asked for directions, and ended up at some small café. But finally the eggs from the top of the building pointed toward the sky.
Kids hanging out during a field trip.
Through the glass in the courtyard.
The tomb under the stage of the main gallery.
The close up artwork of tiles. As you back away you can see the face of Abraham Lincoln.
The Mae West room viewed through the curved glass on the stairs. Then viewed from the side of the room.