Pere Vergés ComaBorn in Barcelona 1953 in the Garden of the Sun. The hands of the gardener were like the bark of the trees, the colour of the pine nuts in the clay pot. The magic of words and songs, the low tides and the pools, the master with the eyes of a hawk, faaway lands, the touch of those hands, happiness and pain, sunny days and heavy rain, the shattered doors of the temple, and this white island of today. Here where the enchanted gulls swirled over me in a heavenly dance turning their given screams into impossible choirs of musical bliss. Read More Read Less