From the distance we see the white domes of Calar Alto. The roads make us think its the wrong way. Heading back and forth an endless highway we realise it must be the way. On the side we see a small airbase – a few yellow airplanes parked outside - perhaps a shortcut for the observers. Much further down the road we find the sign and we know we’re going in the right direction.
Zigzaging and staying on the wrong lane avoiding the dip.
Up and up.
Flowers and pines.
Mountains afar growing blue, shading themselves in various hues.
At the top there is no-one but the large imposing white domes.
We’re flat on the mountains driving through forest.
Nothing, no cars, silence.
Entering a sealed off area – an outpost of science.
Emerging from the forest, sprouting domes appear one by one.
We’re passing through getting closer and closer to the door.
Up there - one police car silently chasing us down.