Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - II. The White City
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just as the growing things beyond impart to us
something of the great patience of eternity, so endlessly
slow is their growth.
New plants appear by the side of the others. Rare
forms and colors sprout from the depths and blend
with the mighty white bed of the flowers. It is the
sea blossoming. The outlines become more
discontinuous: battlements, towers like minarets, domes.
The vision wavers before the eyes, distant, unreal - a
far-off castle with golden cupolas rising from the blue
sea on a dazzling pedestal of chalk. The white mass
dissolves into countless surfaces as you watch it, and
the city spreads out like a water lily in an ocean of
blue, swaying on leaves and stems, with the dome and
the two slender spires of the cathedral leaping like
corolla and stamen into the purple-drenched air. We
have been steaming along for six hours since catching
our earliest glimpse of the first faint dots. So clear
is the air.
As we cast anchor in the Bay of Cadiz and our
glances wander over the city which spreads in dazzling
splendor before us, the blood pounds in our veins.
These unaccustomed outlines; this marvelously pure
white, mingled with the bright green of spring, though
it is now December; the whole dazzling mass, framed
in the deep indigo of the sea and the heaven’s bright
mixture of purple and gold and blue; this revealing
under its snow-white robe of its many colors so faint,
so delicately suggested as in no other city you have
seen - this indeed must be the fairy tale that drew
your incredulous smile when you were still a child.
Here is the wondrous fable born from the sea itself,
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