Magenta in the Morning Storm

by Walter G. Allgöwer

Between night and dawn, the untamed heart of the Atlantic rises at Playa María Jiménez. Puerto de la Cruz still lies bathed in the subdued light of the early morning as the stormy waves crash against the dark lava cliffs. The sea seems to tell stories – ancient tales of wind, fire and time, which have been locked in a struggle here on Tenerife for millennia.
White spray rises like fleeting veils, carried by the ocean’s power. Each wave builds from afar, gathering energy, and finally crashes thunderously onto the shore before retreating back into the vastness. In this eternal ebb and flow lies a melody older than any word.
Above the houses, the sky slowly awakens. The first colours of dawn touch the coast with a gentle hand, whilst the sea continues to reveal its wild nature. Amidst the grey façades, a single colourful house glows like a silent promise, as if to tell the storm that even in the harshest of times, there always remains a spark of warmth and hope.
The morning breathes of salt and freedom. Seagulls circle above the waves, and the wind carries the scent of the ocean through the narrow streets. For a moment, time seems to stand still. Only the sea continues to move, powerful and tireless, as the guardian of this island, born of volcanoes and embraced by the light of the Atlantic.