“I am tall for looking at the palm trees”
                                                                                                                                                            Miguel Hernández

Sometimes we return to a steady place, to a light that is waiting and moving through the hallways of our memory, to an instant where our glance looks out and loiters. We recognize that our shadow is already part of these landscapes, pieces of our own selves, areas and scars from the most secret earth.  We look at the sea with our lips already full of salt, with our bodies already touched by Aprils and Mays; captivated we step on the earth pregnant with pomegranate trees and tamarinds.  It is not longing, but fascination; it is the corners of a summer afternoon, the reflection of the seaweed that takes over the coast of our captive skin. Aren’t the blue of our eyes filled with the reflection of the sea? Don’t smell our pores already like saltpeter? And that marine nard curled in the hair, doesn’t it turn the forehead into a slippery dune?Tierra is a danced breath of admiration to those images that arrive to our being to stay with the air, sand, palm tree or posidonia oceanica; with living organisms that make us mutate and make us theirs.