To the left the rocky coast of Cueta staggers
through the atmosphere to a point. A man's garland face protrudes in
rock from the nearest hilltop, his profile in a stone pout, drawn far
down his chin with a sculpted, even attractively shaped nose. There are
steep expansive vallies here, with horses or cows on their sides. In
the morning, when one arises here, you stand above white clouds and the
vallies, distant Gibraltar and sea, stay tucked beneath them until
morning wind pulls off their blanket and leaves them blinking and
gorgeous in the innocence of the sun's first touch. Several hilltops
wear necklaces wear necklaces of modern, three point windmills. No
longer do they have sails that let the wind fill their corners and toss
them up and over each other like circles of leaves. Today's windmills
are white with plastic fins that spin constantly, churning electricity
down their white stems.