The Gates of Toledo

It does not matter the time that has passed, nor the changes, nor even the passing fashions that were sheltered, both inside and outside its eternal walls. Toledo continues to be that same place, which a certain German poet, surely letting himself be carried away by the delicious winds of daydreaming, defined as the capital of forgotten empires. He continues to feel, metaphorically speaking, the impassive 'Malleus Maleficarum' of the Three Book Cultures, preserving, from each of them, the ancient vestiges of their magic and tradition.

Its doors, sovereign of mystery, also still preserve that equidistant disposition to be thresholds to another world, transporting the enthralled tourist along the visual paths of a speculative fantasy. The same doors, eternal and immemorial, that are decorated every year for Corpues Christi and that saw, among other curious crowds, the finest of Spanish intellectuality pass undisturbed, following ancestral trails in search of impossible chimeras, such as the famous Table of Solomon.

NOTICE: Both the text and the accompanying photographs are my exclusive intellectual property and are therefore subject to my Copyright.