Hugging my Land 

Once this landscape has deepened and taken root within us, it can not be replaced by another.
This way, I feel my land. Greatly arid, solitary... at least the places that I'm fond of, full of láguenas (highly impermeable clay) and with very little water. So much unevenness in this landscape.

Hugging olive branches of forgotten and abandoned trees,  finding only very few green branches, thanks to rain that occasionally falls like a blessing. Planted long ago on terraces, hardly accessible, they stand alone looking at the sky every day, quietly and in silence.
The place has abundant esparto, tapeneras (capers), limonium, tamariz ... and dry riverbeds of saltwater. In another time, olives were carried on mules to reach wider paths, to more passable roads. No longer it's being exploited.
To reach this secluded glen, there's a long walk, but it's worth! ... always! abandoned but beautiful and welcoming.

We could expect so much silence in that land that hurts inside, as being deaf ... making us more aware of ourselves than elsewhere.

Hugging my land, in my heart, forever ...