The lights go out increase the distance by kilometers they crowd behind and I, eyes fixed forward, sadly discover the reality of leaving their yellow cloak. Not running again into every corner with the timeless frame of some scholar who enjoyed its streets.
I find that I will not wake up with her again furious winter breeze or with the oppressive coat of summer heat.
In the dead of night I say goodbye to SalamancaI say goodbye to the nest on shores of Tormes, I bid farewell to Lazarillo, according to the words Cervantes and life on two sides. Salamanca left behind, Salamanca moves away from me, but her mark, as yellow as her architecture, is imprinted on me. I also leave a part of my soul, I leave as a gift the memory of what I was before I met her and the dream of what I will be after I leave her.
Because Salamanca, like a teacher, teaches you the little secrets hidden in your soul. Shows you that fights dissolve in liters Paniagua, reveals that philosophy to you it is hidden in modern terraces, shows you, like a painting, abstract works in the corners of the square, explains that language does not exist, that only a little imagination is needed to understand, educates you about customs as unique as herself. because the city evaporates fears and restores history. Because among its alleys and corners lies the truth ancient city, the reason for such a well-remembered reputation.
Salamanca, for those who have fallen under its charms, is a place that cries out for return with the bells of the cathedral; for those who have just entered the cave of their routines, an unfulfilled dream, and for those who don’t know her, a book that has yet to be read. Salamanca, versatile, It’s an oxymoron, a logical problem, it’s cold and hot in one drink, it’s a black devil, it’s vapor mixed with smoke, it’s work party, is the friendship of two enemies. For this city, unknown in its own knowledge, changes the result without changing the varieties, for though the days, blue and white, are still days, and the nights, dark and orange, are still nights, this reduced piece
urban planning, this spot on the map, this unmissable city, has some charms to discover the deepest needs of your gut.
Because for those who have only kissed the cold lips of the deep city, Salamanca represents only noise and discord, vice and ambition. But his days hide more than that, far from a drunken night are books read under a hypnotic dance Sirens of Tormes, letters lost under the sun, afternoons of rest in the bed of a constant river, walks under the shadow of its sparrows or forgotten laughter on the sidewalks Gran Vía, Salamanca It’s a thousand lives lived at the same time, it’s millions of events that happen in harmony, it’s threesome sex on a starry night, it’s depression marked in the body, it’s a silent betrayal. Salamanca is a prison in Freedom is an invisible tattoo.
But everything ends, everything ends, the dawn always breaks, in the end, the sunset doesn’t take long to arrive and only seconds lived, frozen looks and kisses given remain. SaltAmanca teacher, Salamanca restless, Salamanca silent, lights reflections will fadebut the echo of the memory is amplified in my head.
Source: Panama America
I am David Miller, a highly experienced news reporter and author for 24 Instant News. I specialize in opinion pieces and have written extensively on current events, politics, social issues, and more. My writing has been featured in major publications such as The New York Times, The Guardian, and BBC News. I strive to be fair-minded while also producing thought-provoking content that encourages readers to engage with the topics I discuss.
