It’s a truly jaw dropping show and, as a photographer, it’s hard to concentrate on one subject.
And the trees… Huge Lenga trees with leaves the size of a fingernail, colored more intense than I have ever seen. This was an adaptation to the fierce winds in Patagonia, but even so, there were many victims. The forests are full of twisted, fallen, dead and rotten trunks, and they transform radically over short distances. You go up on a hill and all the trees are small and twisted by the powerful winds, resembling beautiful bonsai trees. Descend in the immediate valley and they are straight, wide and 30 metres tall. In some other part they are the size of fruit trees, but thinner and wildly shaped. Everywhere among them, fallen trunks and huge rocks. It’s an incredibly beautiful chaos and sometimes difficult to photograph.
A part of my soul remained behind, hanging from these windblown trees, admiring shapes and colors never seen before. And this part left behind is growing with every day spent in cities filled with noise, pollution, haste, anger, hustling, long after hours and other unnatural things.
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