Too early that morning, my steps took me wandering through those fields. All the time I looked at that beautiful dawn sky, which at the same time kept bewitching darkness of night in the heights and strength and warmth of the sun on the horizon. By looking at the immensity in the sky, I found some relief to my restlessness, some respite to my discomfort, which had been dragging too many months.
And in the end, I stopped before that view, although the mill was against the light, I could distinguish its door and the worn facade, signs of having suffered many battles of climate, rather that kind of battle that is fought with the erosion caused by the deruling of time. In fact, that land did not seem to receive much water. Some lost almond tree appeared, here and there. Apart from the little care an almond tree needs, these trees had been given little pampering.

I could not take my eyes off the immensity of the sky, beautiful clouds and high above, there was a beautiful formation of ducks, traveling swiftly to another warmer place. Their breasts shone, gilded by the rising sun. And down, lost like a strange bulge, covered because of the cold, a woman caught my attention. She was sitting next to an almond tree, besides her basket woven with esparto. And although she was also part of the strange set of backlights, I could distinguish her face. A lost, soulless look of not finding what one is looking for. The basket remained half empty, there was not much almond harvest. Perhaps because of this, her apathy or discouragement?
Beautiful people who work the land, who with their efforts seek their fruits.
And in the end ... so long I had been walking and looking at the sky, certainly, I was captivated instead by looking at the scene made by the woman and the almond tree.

They were the Earth itself, its very meaning and the passage of generations.