Tinged by the scarlet light of a sun all but sunken on the horizon, long shadows play across the view of concrete high-rises juxtaposed with historical facades: an expansive boulevard laying several stories below the camera's perspective and winding just beyond a vast structure that thrusts into the darkening sky.
It takes you multiple seconds of blankly staring before you realize that the sizable building in question is, or rather, used to be, the Sagrada Familia.
The vast sheets of resinous growths that cocoon the historical landmark and which almost seem to have been organically grown from ground to spire-top make it look like a vast, throbbing organ rising above the Barcelona skyline.
As you watch, the view zooms out from the defaced structure, revealing a concrete rooftop upon which, crouching, laying, and kneeling behind a low parapet, a handful of soldiers dressed in Spanish army fatigues bustle about a squat, mortar-like piece of ordinance while an officer discreetly peers over the barrier with a pair of binoculars.
As the soldiers prepare the portable artillery, the rasping growl of high-speed jet engines grows audible through the tinny audio, resolving into a sonic boom that cracks through the soundscape as, following a gesture from the officer, the mortar discharges with a low thwump.
A plume of red follows the flare shell as it streaks into the sky in a looping ark, detonating in a bright swirl of color that bathes the Sagrada Familia in a relief of crimson and prompting its plasticky coating to refract myriads of ruby shades.
In the heartbeat before multi-role fighter jets dive from the sky, the flair's sputtering life casts into stark relief many hundreds of unclear silhouettes that team about and within the structure like ants.
To a speck, they collectively pause as though in confusion, moments before dozens of incendiary warheads spear through the structure and detonate in a shockwave of rubble: a vast flower violently spreading petals of fire.
As the landmark implodes and flames dance across the skyline, the last few seconds of the video are centered on the soldiers.
Having abandoned their cover in favor of observing the awesome destruction unfolding below, the ragged men and women stand in a disheveled line, quietly gazing out at the inferno engulfing the megalithic building and slowly spreading to immolate surrounding structures.
As the last jet rolls free of its bombing run and thunders overhead, the little squad's officer solemnly takes off his beret and holds it to his heart as he watches the fire and, to the assembly's right, you can see two men mutely hugging one another.
As the video closes, atop that roof, there isn't a single pair of eyes or cheeks blackened from drifting ash that are dry as the soldiers watch their city burn.
It takes you multiple seconds of blankly staring before you realize that the sizable building in question is, or rather, used to be, the Sagrada Familia.
The vast sheets of resinous growths that cocoon the historical landmark and which almost seem to have been organically grown from ground to spire-top make it look like a vast, throbbing organ rising above the Barcelona skyline.
As you watch, the view zooms out from the defaced structure, revealing a concrete rooftop upon which, crouching, laying, and kneeling behind a low parapet, a handful of soldiers dressed in Spanish army fatigues bustle about a squat, mortar-like piece of ordinance while an officer discreetly peers over the barrier with a pair of binoculars.
As the soldiers prepare the portable artillery, the rasping growl of high-speed jet engines grows audible through the tinny audio, resolving into a sonic boom that cracks through the soundscape as, following a gesture from the officer, the mortar discharges with a low thwump.
A plume of red follows the flare shell as it streaks into the sky in a looping ark, detonating in a bright swirl of color that bathes the Sagrada Familia in a relief of crimson and prompting its plasticky coating to refract myriads of ruby shades.
In the heartbeat before multi-role fighter jets dive from the sky, the flair's sputtering life casts into stark relief many hundreds of unclear silhouettes that team about and within the structure like ants.
To a speck, they collectively pause as though in confusion, moments before dozens of incendiary warheads spear through the structure and detonate in a shockwave of rubble: a vast flower violently spreading petals of fire.
As the landmark implodes and flames dance across the skyline, the last few seconds of the video are centered on the soldiers.
Having abandoned their cover in favor of observing the awesome destruction unfolding below, the ragged men and women stand in a disheveled line, quietly gazing out at the inferno engulfing the megalithic building and slowly spreading to immolate surrounding structures.
As the last jet rolls free of its bombing run and thunders overhead, the little squad's officer solemnly takes off his beret and holds it to his heart as he watches the fire and, to the assembly's right, you can see two men mutely hugging one another.
As the video closes, atop that roof, there isn't a single pair of eyes or cheeks blackened from drifting ash that are dry as the soldiers watch their city burn.