Guadarrama: an island on the waves
Was Madrid for me a place of welcome, among many settlers who came here one day and we were. And I thought Madrid width and agitated. But fortunately the sea was an island of silica, the Guadarrama, protruding above the waves for you to rest on it, enjoy yourself the horizon and you could save shipwrecks predictable.
Without this next reference of silence, rocks and forests, I think Madrid would be for many of us far less habitable. Madrid can not be explained without the kindly security emanates from the Guadarrama. For this and other things, everyone is in agreement that this saw is a landscape with soul.
Without this next reference of silence, rocks and forests, I think Madrid would be for many of us far less habitable
This islet are a natural gift, something punished. Elsewhere I have written that, when reviewing the last half century of the Sierra de Guadarrama, see passing in succession the suffering you have experienced and it seems like don Quijote when someone asked: "How did you get here?, without ever having killed the infinite sticks you have in tow?». But, As citizens of Madrid we have the capacity to overwhelm the Sierra, Also in this city nestles the strongest will to save. This has been. The sea bat, but also defends his island. Save natural values has become for many an act of civilization.
How logical were not going to show joy to attend your arrival, finally, to National Park?
This reserve of silence has high peaks, edges torreada, gaps glacial cirques, slopes with groves, broad valleys and dark gorges. This simplicity is molded over centuries a landscape with a human face, where there is a plot with no name or memory. In my experience I have mountains of Guadarrama such places as home ownership, peace scenarios, Learning, of repeated pieces of life, so, affections on things, to sites, to scenarios. And, so, at the bottom of the beauty and depth of the landscape, Sierra is an ark of experiences, of pleasantries and emotions, a well of feelings.
I'm thankful, always repeat, to the mountain of silence, to large trees with gnarled roots that cross the paths
I'm thankful, always repeat, to the mountain of silence, to large trees with gnarled roots that cross the paths, its gray rocks, sus panoramas lying. A storm saw rolling hills banging for their, water to streams humble, of swaying light gaps in the rocks of the shore and the snows that year after year they give much dignity to landscapes. Rough Rocks, gardens as weeds, Wind that speaks to water, deeply, thank you very much.
How logical were not going to show joy to attend your arrival, finally, a National Park, if only these few words? But, from this full satisfaction without hobbies, as we know that whenever you deserve more, continue thinking about how to enlarge the gift.
