Spain

Spain Incipit ARANJUEZ. As on arriving at Madrid by way of the north, so on leaving it by way of the south, one must pass through a desolate country that resembles the poorest provinces of Arragon and Old Castile. There are vast plains, parched and yellow, which look as though they would echo like a hollow passageway if one were to strike them, or crumble like the crust of a crisp tart. And through the plains are scattered a few wretched villages of the same color as the soil, which seem as though they would take fire like a pile of dry leaves if one were to touch a torch to the corner of one of the huts. After an hour of travel my shoulders sought the cushions of the carriage, my elbow sought for a support, my head sought my hand, and I fell into a deep sleep like a member of Leopardi's "Assembly of Listeners." A few minutes after I had closed my eyes I was rudely awakened by a desperate cry from the women and ...