They are still there. Yellow concrete blocks or sticks of the same color that place us in the emergency, that hold us back in a few days when everything fell apart, that remind us pain numbers. There are many streets in Barcelona still dotted with the yellow wounds of the pandemic. Last year it was announced that they would gradually disappear until June 2022. If the announcement is fulfilled, there are only a few days left until the end. The virus continues among us, but it has not affected collective relations for a long time. There are the massive festivals, packed with people, to make fun of some of the measures of the so-called tactical urbanism that still condition the shared space. It’s been a long time since life in the houses, work or leisure recovered its pulse, but the streets are still installed in a kind of perpetual -and grotesque- provisionality.

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With the thermometer shot and the roads collapsed, yellow multiplies its weight and exhales irritating, bitter effluvia. Let the crane take those hindrances once and for all. Open wounds that remind us of moments of anguish and suffering. Of losses and choking tears. Cemetery headstones.


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