" The bus sways me back and forth, swiftly as if in a cradle. The endless fields of green grass through the window. Occasionally you can see the tower of a church, an abandoned farm, a lonely graveyard in the middle of nowhere. The sun brushes one side of my face from time to time, proyecting orange shadows through my hair. I can feel the soft leather seat behind me. Momentarily, I am somnolient. A bump on the road brings me back to reality. I glance across the rows of seats in front of me. A relaxed pose. Or tired. Beige chinos. A tanned arm. Silver Casio. Knitted grey sweater. On the screen, a quick succession of images I can't discern. Looks like a movie. Brunette ruffled hair. Green eyes. Or blue. Or both. I glance at the horizon. Between the fields, at the very end, a group of trees. I look at my watch. 7:08. Tecnically, in seven minutes we should be in Salamanca. I lean forward and look over the seats. Through the parasol I see the road, a bridge, and at the back, green and sky. "