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The journey to white

Writer's picture: Luis BauLuis Bau
The Rila-Rhodope Massif, Luis Bau (2024).
The Rila-Rhodope Massif, Luis Bau (2024).

Written on 12/23/2024


The road, an endless line cutting through an irregular plane of earthy tones, grays, and pure whites. To my left and right, bare trees stand like etched engravings. From the bus, the fogged-up window distorts the contours, warping the low clouds and distant mountains in this scene of unsettling serenity. The snow, dense and pristine, blankets the peaks and flows down in clean diagonals. The sky, opaque and shifting in shades of gray, serves as an austere backdrop, where clouds crawl unhurriedly, oblivious to the passage of time.


The bus acts as a dynamic observatory, framing fragments of a landscape that constantly reinvents itself. Scattered villages, with their whitewashed houses and muted rooftops, are brief notes in this winter symphony—details that seek no prominence yet invite quiet reflection. Through the glass, shapes blur and colors soften, leaving only light and textures: the fundamental elements of all representation. Inside, the artificial lighting and the constant hum of the engine create a hermetic atmosphere, in sharp contrast to the vastness and silence reigning outside. Reflections on the glass blend drowsy faces with the contours of the exterior, fusing the human with the landscape. The traveler’s gaze, too, becomes a part of this beautiful creation.


As we approach Sofia, the snow transforms into an omnipresent veil. The trees, reduced to thin, black lines, insinuate themselves against the white backdrop, composing an ephemeral calligraphy the eye cannot help but read. The waning daylight casts elongated shadows, accentuating the depth of the scene. Finally, the capital emerges, silent and austere, like a sculpture frozen in time. Its urban outlines reflect glimmers of frost as the sunset blurs the last hues of the day. From here, the journey continues toward Valencia. But this stretch, marked by winter’s stark nakedness and the weight of the mountains, is the ascent into the purest white—a journey into the very essence of winter, where silence, light, and snow sketch a perfect, fleeting geometry.

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