One can change a thousand times to stay and as many or more of a city, country, latitude, hemisphere, but will forever inhabited by the landscape of his childhood, the landscape of the first looks conscious and intended that follows and chases him wherever he goes. My world is a border, it is mountain, but mountains overlooking the sea and overlook the dreams that tomorrow always comes and to which we cling when you feel like changing the course of things. From the mountains, meandering down the Almaden (river sea) looking for the kiss of delivery in the Mediterranean Marbella.
On clear days, and in the hazy days of my longings, my landscape is a terrace overlooking the sea and wade to the Atlas mountains of far plane as if a ghostly dream to rise above impossible: here Ojén, where the sea-beautiful, beyond the threshold of the African Maghreb vast and incomprehensible, in the middle plane, shifted to the right, as if to shake hands Sabinillas, the Rock of Gibraltar.
The sun in retreat up the hill to Pelayo rate path, while the sea ocean water oxygenated and renewed through the Strait. In his farewell has pink shades on the final moments of the day and set the album as a snapshot of my memory. This, this is my landscape, the clear days of my beloved land of childhood, and the hazy days of my regrets, when I check to miss him again and again the heritage album of my memory.
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