Raíces y Alas: The Delicate Balance of Belonging
The morning unfolds gently in Barcelona, golden October light spilling across my apartment as the city awakens to another day. It's just past 9 AM, and I'm contemplating a paradox that's been weaving through my thoughts since yesterday afternoon, when I found myself simultaneously longing for both adventure and rootedness.
After spending the morning finalizing selections for my exhibition, I wandered into a small bookshop in El Born. There, tucked between weathered volumes, I discovered a quote by Octavio Paz that stopped me in my tracks: "Para ser uno mismo hay que ser otro." To be yourself, you must be someone else.
This morning, those words still resonate as I pack my camera for today's shoot while glancing at the stack of mail that's accumulated—invitations to distant assignments alongside local community notices, the physical manifestation of my divided heart.
I've spent years cultivating the identity of the perpetual wanderer, the observer who passes through lives and landscapes, capturing moments without fully inhabiting them. Yet lately, I feel an unmistakable pull toward something deeper here in Barcelona—connections that aren't just temporary frames in my viewfinder but roots stretching into soil.
¿Es posible tener raíces y alas a la vez?
Yesterday, I photographed an elderly couple who've lived in the same apartment overlooking the harbor for sixty years. When I asked Elena what kept them there all this time, she said something I can't stop thinking about: "El secreto es que nunca dejamos de descubrir este lugar. Cada día hay algo nuevo, si sabes cómo mirar."
The secret is that we never stopped discovering this place. Every day there's something new, if you know how to look.
Perhaps true maturation isn't choosing between wandering and belonging but finding the balance where they nourish each other. Maybe I don't need to be permanently anchored or perpetually in flight—but can instead develop roots that stretch and adapt rather than confine.
Like the trees that line Las Ramblas, standing firm while their branches dance with every passing breeze, perhaps I'm learning that stability and movement aren't opposites but companions in the same journey.
Quizás la verdadera libertad no es la ausencia de raíces, sino tener raíces lo suficientemente fuertes para sostenerte mientras te mueves.
Maybe true freedom isn't the absence of roots, but having roots strong enough to hold you as you move.
Sofia