Navacerrada becomes deserted and under the Puente de los Franceses only catfish with parpusa, locos de atar and two tropical ducks sail.
This first snow of Navacerrada has a scent that smells without smelling, and yet, like a Proust madeleine, it takes us back to the ancient and to the fascination that aroused those of us who were born in the Mediterranean in the purity of the pine forests . After…
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