I’m back in the school grounds playing tunnel ball. I am the ball in the middle of this ramble down La Rambla, Barcelona. The twisted arms of the branches that arch way above my head let me through, but they’re letting through a crowd packed tight right along with me. And so we all push and pull around each other. You can’t really mind when it’s Barcelona you’re in. Hemmed in by buildings that crack with layers of paint, there are some gaps in the tunnel we’re in. Here’s one now, a lane way off the thoroughfare. It has shadows, its sounds are quieter and its windows fill with design treasures. And yet, soon enough I’m rambling back down La Rambla, Barcelona’s tunnelled heart.