From Daybook 1918: Early Fragments, which was published in September by Northwestern University Press. Foix (1893–1987) was a poet and a journalist engaged in the Catalan nationalist movement. Edited and translated from the Catalan by Lawrence Venuti.

Faded by the rain, hidden for the entire afternoon among barrels in a narrow alleyway, we boys from my street agreed to wait till darkness descended to put on our purple suits and set an enormous funnel in the middle of the square, identical in diameter to the square itself and as tall as the tower of Can Pomeret. After the last light in the village had gone out, we painted the houses in the square black, and between the roofs we hung backdrops that represented a few gray clouds or a column of smoke from a locomotive on a misty day. When everything was ready, we hid beneath the arches of the pharmacy to spy on how the moon would let herself be attracted by that ingenious aluminum snare. But when midnight arrived, the doors of the bakery opened with a tremendous din, a woman came out carrying six loaves stacked on her head, and the spell of that night was broken.