I found a bar just down the street and as the light began to give, at six o'clock or so, I would go there and have a huge milky coffee and a sandwich made of rough bread and ham or tuna fish. I have to point my finger at what I want. For those early days I wanted nothing but this walk from here to the café and back.

On my first Sunday there were no shutters opening or closing so I was guided only by the cathedral bells. I got up and walked down to the square for my coffee. The sky was warm blue and the sun gave off a surprising heat for late September in Barcelona.

I was careful not to move too far away from my pensión. I knew I would have to steel myself. I had bought a map so I knew that I lived close to the cathedral, in the small cluster of streets just up from the port.

I knew that I would have to push myself. I had bought a white cotton dress and a white cotton jacket and a red hat. I was wearing them for the first time. I would have to stop being afraid. I would have to make a decision to go into bars, cafés, restaurants. I would have to be brave. I would have to do as I pleased.

I knew too that there was nothing seriously wrong with me and that I would be all right. I knew that the panic caused by a man I didn't know coming into my compartment in the middle of the night had left a small mark like the bruise on my shoulder which was fading.

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