A condor winged paraglider pilot soars high on the thermals, which swirl around the square set peaks.
Swooping low across the screes.
A tapestry of undulating valleys below. Embroidered with hedgerows and homesteads.
A sinuous road weaves its way to the clifftop. That reveals itself to be a ridge, falling away equally precipitously to seaward. . . . .
. . . . . .and inshore. The rooftops of Laredo, stacked high below.
The church, its bell hung in an arch above the tower, uppermost.
It stands above town walls, pierced with gateways to the lush valleys.
Populated by shaded courtyards. . . . .
. . . . . . .and streets lit by shafts of sunlight.
Further down, new town and old meet, in the plaza. Fountains play, before pavement cafes, set about with verdant palms.
And cockaded military peacocks strut, before the extravagant curlicues, of intricately mosaicked facades.
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