Imagery

In this huge valley, he was submerged in its spectral colors and mesmerized by the blue mountain blurs in the distance, treeless and snow-capped, under a peaceful sky. Nothing but miles and miles of rolling plains of full-bloomed yellow flowers. They grew at most to his knees and at least to his shins. He made great effort not to stomp them out, and walked gracefully in their surroundings, with a light step to each stride.

Now by the dirt road, he thought it best he would cell phone Sarah, his photographer. Robert was in Spain, writing a record of his time spent there and the culture he encountered for a highly recognized magazine based in the U.S. that focused on international encounters and perspectives of local peoples and political officials reflecting on their region. He decided to visit the southeast foothills of the Pyrenees to begin his journey into the depths of the country. He recognized that he already made the right decision.

"Hello?" Sarah answered.

"Sarah, I'm 20 miles north of the town, straight off of the Huela road. You have to come see this. It's a giant field of sunflowers." Robert was wearing his sunglasses, which had a very dark hue themselves and went across his eyes very sharply.

She sighed and said "Alright, I'll be down there in 30 minutes." It was 10 o'clock in the morning, and she had been taking scenic pictures of the town they were staying in, called Aguavero. They heard the previous night from their guide Carlos that there was a wonderful valley after several miles country roaming north of the town. Sarah was still groggy and reluctant to come up there, but she knew she had to, so she did anyway.

Robert ended his conversation. He had dirty blonde hair, that blended into the field once the sun shined on it. He wore a beige buttoned up shirt and dark blue jeans under his belt. He concluded that he would relax while waiting for her. After all, it wasn't his job to write about a landscape, he would let the memory serve him for the descriptions and would rely on the location of this place that he had written down already. He laid down on this bed of flowers with his arms behind his back pillared on the grass, and his legs sprawled out in front of his rested torso, after finding a cozy patch of green a few yards from the road.

He bent his head back and decided to rest for the next 10 minutes, tanning in the sunlight. After he felt well enough satisfied and rejuvenated, he got up on his feet and walked a longer distance ever in to the depths of the flowers. The fell graciously over his knees, they felt soft, and let him pass by without resistance. He reached the top of a small lump of a hill, and proceeded down it's opposite side. This continued for a while, there were endless rolling waves of landscape. After going far enough (judged by himself), he sat down again on the top of a ridge, in distant view of the road. He saw a trail of rising dirt and the red jeep ahead of it. It stopped shortly after he spotted it, near his own car, and a woman in a pink buttoned up shirt came out of it, she had bright blonde hair that blinded anyone who looked at it in this kind of intense sunlight. Around her neck was a cord with a camera attached to it. She waved to Robert and started taking pictures.