By Marcos Pérez Ramírez
E stacion and dismount the bike. Leave it to your side and stop to admire the brave and unfathomable Tues Feel the breeze. Breathe deeply. The salt feed your body. You're looking at a piece of paradise, the utopia that God's splendid irony fragmented around the world, perhaps as proof of our weakness, perhaps a reminder that the majesty of nature.
You are in Cerro Gordo. Join your bike and climbs into the lap of the forest Breñas. Passes in front of the line of progress cement masked by the walk-ups and thanks for the developmental fervor has not put paid to such beauty. The climb is a bit hard, but once you reach the trail you will notice that much time left before esfumarte in the bush. Start the tour: the palm trees hug you, the seedlings are stripped to show the metamorphosis of their trunks, the almond reign on high and grapes shirts hold the ground, soft as a Persian carpet. Watch out for roots, coconuts and fronds rendered reckless: those responsible for this road is always new. If Heraclitus had made this ride a mountain bike, metaphorized might not have a river. Let your nose to perceive the aromas. Smells like vanilla mixed with ginger, salt, wet sheet.
Throw yourself down the slopes
risky for the sea to leave your dew on your skin. Now appreciate the waves, right now his anger disappears. You return to the green and the Atlantic will be a rumor. You think you go without an end, but then the hermit crab and the dove sabanera give you scope. Everything is displayed slowly. Leave your hurry to die.
0 comments:
Post a Comment