Upon the left there was nothing to be seen but grassy meadow land over which herds of cattle strayed.

And before us, in the distance, something that resembled a line of ramparts shut in the plains sadly: it was the edge of a rocky plateau at whose base flowed the river.

The far bank of this river was higher than the side that we were on, and was, in some respects, of a different character, but for the most part it was as flat and monotonous.

And it is just this sameness that has so much charm for me, an attraction appreciated seemingly by few others.

The great level plains with their calm and tranquil straight lines are deeply and profoundly inspiring.
There is nothing in our vicinity that I love any better than the old road; perhaps I have an affection for it because during my school-boy days I built so many castles-in-Spain upon those flat plains where, from time to time, I find them again.