«The breeze carries the smell of thyme. Wild land south of Crete. We are attracted to an ageless old man sitting on a rock, his skin dry as the ground where he rests his feet. He looks at us and turns towards the coast. He only says two words accompanied by a gesture, embracing the distance: the sea, the sea, thálassa, thálassa. He is subdued. He subdues us. «The least complicated challenge in San Luis de Acosta is to go down five almost vertical kilometers from the El Resbalón slope to a second bridge: if the reader imagines that a small stop at the bar Viagra, next to the road, will sustain Before San Luis, I am not the one who wants to disabuse him; and even less if with that small detour he manages to climb the remaining eleven kilometers, until he returns to San Luis. Right there, the El Polvazal bar will have the pleasure of receiving you as you no longer step on the ground of this town so well endowed with names, so that you can recover the lost calories. But one thing is for sure: what the bar Viagra does not provide, El Polvazal does not provide.
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