The Breath of the Atlantic

Even before the sun appeared over the Atlantic, Playa María Jiménez was bathed in a silvery twilight. The sky stretched grey and vast across the coast, as if the morning were still hesitating to give way to the day. But the sea knew no hesitation. In long, wild gasps, the waves rolled in, crashing thunderously against the black lava rock and shattering into white veils of spray.
The houses of Puerto de la Cruz stood close to the coast; their facades in ochre, pink and dark red looked like dabs of colour against the melancholy of the morning. Behind some windows, lights might already be on, whilst outside the Atlantic spoke its ancient language — rough, impetuous and yet full of beauty.
The wind carried the salty scent of the sea through the narrow streets. Seagulls glided silently over the surf, and for a fleeting moment everything seemed to stand still: time, thoughts, even the roar of the waves.
This is how the morning begins in Tenerife — not gently, but powerfully and full of soul.