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Pilgrims on the Gaudí trail may find a moment to stop and pause on this busy corner. Here, on a hot summer's morning, 7 June 1926, an old man shuffled hurriedly along; oblivious to the sounds of the passing traffic. He stepped out and crossed the Gran Via, not pausing long enough to see an oncoming tram ploughing speedily towards him. It was too late. The tram hit him. Onlookers watched in horror, his injuries were so bad that successive taxis refused to carry him to the hospital.
Nobody recognised this poor old man. His scruffy dress, his unkempt white hair, it might have been any odd soul. But it wasn't, it was Antoni Gaudí, the city's most famous son. By this time he had been living much as a hermit in the very centre of his greatest obsession, the Sagrada Família. Loss of friends and hard times had forced him to practically beg for the funds to complete his work. Here he lay, his end imminent, his greatest monument already set in stone just a few blocks away.
contributor: Nigel Hayler
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Tetuan 
