The wind started to blow again in the Cocora valley. Managing to pierce certain clouds, the sun silhouettes against the mist the immense slender silhouette of the wax palm trees. Sometimes dark green, sometimes light green, the colors vary according to the rhythm dictated by the gusts.
Not far away, imperturbable, cows graze. A hummingbird passes. A wild orchid flickers. A ray suddenly diffuses all its light. Higher up, the streets of the village are joyfully crowded again, on the church square a Willis parks. Already notes of salsa are escaping from the Carrera Ocho billiard room. Mild late afternoon in Salento.