As I always like to start on the road, The Way is everything, beginning and end of stories. This road "Way of the Men of Embergadura" (men arrechos, they would say here) that begins wide and later becomes somewhat narrow, was part of many stories and if you stay until the end you may understand why.
Take that dusty path through the slaps of the summer that inclemently hits him, while I am taking some photographs, which I will show you with the passage of the walker who speaks through his drawings of light, those that if you really open your eyes will leave you a Smooth kiss on the pupils, a journey on the wings of this misty land.
This was the old royal road where the wagons passed at that time when the brave men were raised with shouts of their horses that made them run with the spears raised, but it was precisely not the way the braves walked, they went by another , that if you see the photo, you will notice a deviation that will be the one that I take in search of that old road, that despite taking that same name "road" is not the same so the same letters will be put. But in this transit I will refresh the view a little below with some photos, with everything and that in this section the protagonists were still hiding (I think it still carried the smell of smoke from vehicular exhaust pipe) While I give each step the nature is responsible for cleaning that pestilence that characterizes the villager, yes the same as I said before, smell of city and stress of the modern, but that majestic concert is erasing and occupying that space with the most beautiful energy of love. Walk among these beings and you will notice what I say, have you noticed?
In the meantime the voice was saying that you wanted to look at these letters, doodles that say what you want to see, a dream that runs through the sighs of that land, of brave, but she does not want to express the brave of man, if the music that the earth he sings to make this man a being, because with the earth with his sweet voice he lulls him since his mother is.
Later in this routine that followed, it takes us to the path I seek. This is where I found the hare that stopped to talk with us, as you know they don't stop talking, they just know how to run free in the wind.
After walking for a few hours, I have come to the road I wanted to show you, it is not just any road, I told the story of my grandfather, who in turn was the son of the bugle (bugle: man who passed the voice of command of a general in the battles) by Simón Bolívar, a man who once won the title of liberator (but that is another story) brought me to walk these steps and always told me the same story: This was the secret path that made me win Your grandfather with Mr. / (Bolívar) passed by in a short time from one place to another, leaving the enemy armies and surprising them in an ambush, because they looked at the army on one side and suddenly I was on the other (not say but that was one of the secrets that they thought in principle was an army twice as big, the one that accompanied them.After that I explained why the lord grabbed grandfather as a trumpet and was one of the men of color (no white skin) yes one of the few that I get to have the highest officer rank For a dark-skinned man: it turns out that Bolivar met our grandfather as a child, when the Lord came to visit Don Juan de Villegas to Our people (there he stressed that the liberator's grandfather founded our town) The one with the great title met this When he was a little boy, he was assigned here as a game boy, they talked a lot and the grandfather told him that the lineage of an African king was coming, because his mother was the daughter of a great king Bantu, and how they were taken from Africa, all this He said because the gentleman was curious and it was not explained why the blacks of that place (important cane planting area, with many slaves) all these brunettes treated that black slave with a special delicacy, my grandfather stressed again something that said why do you think blacks followed the lord to death? if you analyze well they followed the bugle, which in turn was the direct descendant of their king, nobody asked blacks or cared about their history, but that is the secret that is only known among blacks. Some say that Bolívar was the son of the black woman they bought, but nobody tells the story of the friend of that child who could be said special, the grandfather was right-handed because he had to be a fellow practice partner in the fencing classes that the founder of Our town overlooked his grandson. Thing that served to become a superior officer, since he won not by being a simple bugle, because he was the most wanted person at the time of a battle, all the enemies wanted to kill this, because this bugle was unique. Many blacks left their lives on the road to follow the lord, who in turn was a friend of the black boy, a black man whom the Maroons looked after with his life. I don't know if it was just a story of my grandfather in the wandering of his mind, but one day he had to tell it, because if he didn't leave with me when he dies someday. few of his grandchildren walked the mountain with him. Although I no longer remember the details that my grandfather told me, more or less there goes the story, I do not say that it is something real, but at least for me it is, because my grandfather always said it and stressed that it does not matter who believes you, it only matters that you believe. But I always ask myself that question. Really why the Maroons followed Bolivar blindly.
Although I walk these lands in search of peace, I always think about this story and how these valleys are full of secrets that were left in the memory of children, since they were only told to them, my grandfather, a man with a hat and espadrille, who never he lacked his hand in his hand, which highlighted him as a man with chest hair. So many races that mixed to make the people who live here, but the truth is the most beautiful land, so I always show them in every way.
That is the main image of the previous publication
I invite you to see it complete by pressing that source.
Lent: Leica 1: 2.8-3.7 / 7.4-88.8.
Location: Villa de Cura.