Dalí, God rest him, was wrong. So was his father, the God of Catalan religion, Francesc Pujols, from Barcelona-Martorell. The one from Figueres dared to say that the center of the world, of the universe was… “This place is located exactly in the center of the Perpignan station.” And more disoriented than clock-like mustaches that strike neither quarter hours nor full hours, he recalls God the Father: “All important things happen there, and Pujols also saw it clearly, because Montpellier, Perpignan, is the place where truth is to be discovered.” We can't stop laughing. The truth is at La Panadella.

The tramontana wind, bitterly cold this mid-November Monday, howls furiously through the narrow, steep streets of Cadaqués, deserted today, with closed doors and windows and drawn shutters on bars and restaurants, all displaying signs announcing extended holidays. Quietude, tranquility, and the only sound, the onslaught of the tramontana. This is the Cadaqués that the Japanese painter Shigeyoshi Koyama loves, the Cadaqués he so desperately misses during the summer, when the revelry and noise take over the town day and night, forcing him into exile in the quiet village of Vilanova de la Muga until September, when the summer visitors leave and Cadaqués returns.