***The Passionate Art of Sunset (Story POV)
Thought I would try a more iconic pose from Granada. I hope I have added enough spark to give it a fresh taste. Otherwise, as always, I have added in a narrative so you can wander through history from a different Point Of View.
On the shoulders of southern Spain is a Fortress that once ruled with supreme confidence. The kings believed that nothing would change as long as they were alive. And then one of them died and everything changed.
Now the fortress and palace are a walking garden for people with enough footprints to get there.
The proverbial flies on the walls have also passed on and so there really are only rumors of stories left to tell of this great kingdom and the daily lives of people who lived and prospered there.
I only know these stories from a direct descendant of a gnat who sat on the wings of a fly perched on the wall where a king and queen shared court with legends of old.
Some other direct descendants are still living so I cannot reveal everything the gnat told me but I can tell you this ... It was all amazing!
For instance, one Friday the eldest son walked past the jaguar fountain in the courtyard and asked his mother "Will I be a good King?"
The mother thought for awhile and spoke wisely "It really is up to the gnat on the fly's wings on the wall to know for sure...but I believe if it is written in the stars it will be so! " She smiled sweetly but he did not feel so self assured.
Years later, he did become King and breathed a sigh of relief.
But as many kings, he finally had to let go when the winds started blowing from the Northwest and new owners bought the property and asked him to leave.
It is rumored that he sat at this perch for many days looking back at his home and meditating on the amazing journey of his life and his temporal loss. Eventually he packed up his caravan and relocated to Morocco where he lived a prosperous and fruitful life but he was always the most proud of the beauty his family created with this grand monument.
When I came here, a few years later, I did not feel like a King nor a gnat on the wings of a fly on the wall. But I did taste history in the meal I ate on this same terrace and I can still smell the sweet scent of wisteria rising up in the heat and hear the breezes rustle and crackling leaves in the trees like a gnat dancing on the wings of a fly playing flamenco on the walls of the golden palace listening to conversations and passing it along to the next generation.
No matter what anyone says, History tastes better when it's warm and the view is hot!
***The Passionate Art of Sunset (Story POV)
Thought I would try a more iconic pose from Granada. I hope I have added enough spark to give it a fresh taste. Otherwise, as always, I have added in a narrative so you can wander through history from a different Point Of View.
On the shoulders of southern Spain is a Fortress that once ruled with supreme confidence. The kings believed that nothing would change as long as they were alive. And then one of them died and everything changed.
Now the fortress and palace are a walking garden for people with enough footprints to get there.
The proverbial flies on the walls have also passed on and so there really are only rumors of stories left to tell of this great kingdom and the daily lives of people who lived and prospered there.
I only know these stories from a direct descendant of a gnat who sat on the wings of a fly perched on the wall where a king and queen shared court with legends of old.
Some other direct descendants are still living so I cannot reveal everything the gnat told me but I can tell you this ... It was all amazing!
For instance, one Friday the eldest son walked past the jaguar fountain in the courtyard and asked his mother "Will I be a good King?"
The mother thought for awhile and spoke wisely "It really is up to the gnat on the fly's wings on the wall to know for sure...but I believe if it is written in the stars it will be so! " She smiled sweetly but he did not feel so self assured.
Years later, he did become King and breathed a sigh of relief.
But as many kings, he finally had to let go when the winds started blowing from the Northwest and new owners bought the property and asked him to leave.
It is rumored that he sat at this perch for many days looking back at his home and meditating on the amazing journey of his life and his temporal loss. Eventually he packed up his caravan and relocated to Morocco where he lived a prosperous and fruitful life but he was always the most proud of the beauty his family created with this grand monument.
When I came here, a few years later, I did not feel like a King nor a gnat on the wings of a fly on the wall. But I did taste history in the meal I ate on this same terrace and I can still smell the sweet scent of wisteria rising up in the heat and hear the breezes rustle and crackling leaves in the trees like a gnat dancing on the wings of a fly playing flamenco on the walls of the golden palace listening to conversations and passing it along to the next generation.
No matter what anyone says, History tastes better when it's warm and the view is hot!