Douro

Douro Valley. Miradouro de Casal de Loivos

My empathy with the Douro Valley is weird. It's an old thing. I remember, when I was a child, some trips with my parents and, even then, I already felt that the land owned me. It was as if each landscape element spoke close to me. On any terrace, any cypress or white cluster, that rises here and there, everything seems so familiar, as if the earth and the voice that I hear inside my head talked the same language.