That smell of rich scalded gofio that my mother made for me, with gofio and butter, warm to see if this girl gets some sense because she looks like a buzzard, I spent part of my adolescence in Teror and the memories invaded me. With a lot of longing, grate a corn cob, my girl, my cousin used to tell me with a lot of affection, in El Confital, when I dropped the bucket full of winkles into the tide, my hair was left with saltpeter for a few hours, mom said, that it was good for my hair, I liked to stretch out on the railings of the beach to be able to see the Virgen del Carmen, which is in Las Canteras.
How good it tasted, the piece of wreckfish from the sancocho that we canaries eat, on that Good Friday, that jilorio, when you smell the fish broth and the scalded gofito. I take a nap in a cave in Ajuy, I go to Cofete to put my head in the salt water, what a beautiful sunset from that Montaña Bermeja, or enter that Volcán del Cuervo where you can hear the roar of the volcano
To ask the Cristo de La Laguna, that this canarian town, remains united, our people, our customs, that we do not lack the smell of the Salinas de Fuencaliente, in the south of the island of La Palma, shows the natural contrast between the volcanic black, the blue of the sea, that smell of Laurisilva, from La Gomera, fascinates me, to take a nap in La Sabina herreña, that those trees give me shade, to wake up and have a sip of coffee in Caleta de Sebo.
It was said! Let us be that pella and let us treat each other my canarian brothers. Congratulations and let's dive together.
Juani Alemán Hernández.