"I'm harvesting blues in the bare blue from the tropic zone. The fields, invaded by vegetable masses, denounce the secret April, that of the strong and lubricious senses. Therefore blue, the airs are exalted; throbs, in joyous expansions, the grove; and the towns are revealed lucid and seething, from which sparkling dust is released. The blue vibrates, nourished with strength and joy, on the green island; they glow scarlet. They shine yellow and blue. touches young They have the resurrected bushes in their gardens. Some flowers, tumid and blue their corollas, are immersed in the magnetic lights of the day. On the warm shores its blue curves the waves. The blue says its aerial, complex symphony." - Evaristo Rivera Chevremont