Where I've got a thorn of 4 inches long in the heel, for not paying attention and being barefoot, where I was so afraid of cattle, where I wanted to eat the cotton seeds and they told me it was poison, where it occurred to us to cross the fields full of mud in winter, the workers all full of mud on foot except me on a donkey to visit my great-grandmother Petronila Hurtado de Arupón, I got off and filled myself with mud on purpose as we all almost arrived.
Where the fear of the dark terrified me in the early morning when I woke up and came with a lamp to kill my anguish. Where I was happy !.
From the heights there is a landscape that could never have been imagined as a child, -it was too small in that immensity-, I hope to be able to contemplate from the air that space face to face, and to caress the wind that walks through that obnubilant land during my childhood, where so many emotions come together, because that space was a witness of the actions of my predecessors, of tradition, of land, of the inheritance and of the blood.
On Sunday mornings full of silence, you can feel a fresh and slightly cold air before 9:00 a.m., there is no more beautiful morning to contemplate that penetrating blue intense cloak that crosses from the highest point of the space, until touching the edges farthest from that immensity of land. There is no cloud hovering above! Sunlight comes more evenly and with the same intensity, making everything look much sharper and with more vivid colors that create that feeling that everything is wider. Then it becomes that curious feeling that the air around is lighter, those days without clouds in the cool mornings, have always been my favorite days since childhood, because my senses are sharpened making me feel more alive and lighter, floating on the lawn during a graceful and smooth trot of a horse that moves me to caress the wind.
Reminiscence of the old good days
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