Alicante was the beginning and the return point: the place where the trip first slowed down enough for the sea, the palms and the climb towards the castle to become the rhythm of the day.
Valencia changed the pace. I remember it through surfaces and structure — carved stone, market façades and streets that became warmer as the afternoon went on. Barcelona felt different again: less orderly, more surprising, and always asking me to look above eye level.
Seen together, the three cities were not one version of Spain. The route became a comparison between them, and returning to Alicante closed the loop without making the beginning feel quite the same.
