An air of eternity lies over the Parque Natural de Los Volcanes. Dawn colours the sky in soft gold and violet, while wafts of mist drift over the dark lava rock like ghosts of times gone by. The landscape looks primeval - as if the earth has just exhaled.
In the background, Monte Mina, at 444 metres more guardian than peak, rises silently and stoically. At the foot of the volcano, the first silhouettes of palm trees and villages awaken near San Bartolomé - like oases in the dream of a sleeping fire.
The ground is barren, but not dead. Small bushes push their way into the light between the ash and basalt, glowing green like sparks of hope in the black of the earth. The silence is complete - only the wind softly tells of heat, cold and emergence.
Here, on Lanzarote, where fire and air meet, every day begins like a new poem of the elements. It is a landscape that speaks without saying a word. An invitation to humility - before nature, before time, before life itself.
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