I realised that in a way, the view from my balcony that I had admired so much had also been like a view of Catalonia itself. Of the changing political landscape.

If I block out the other sights and sounds on my balcony, it’s the Catalan flags that I notice. There must be about 30 within view, fluttering in the summer breeze.

At around 10pm the air was filled with a familiar sound. Some of the residents of my block had slid open their doors and stepped out onto their balconies. They were ready to protest.