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All the muses have had to move to the South. To this corner of the Mediterranean, with the flavor of African spices, with the smell of perfumes from the Orient, with the melodic sound of American rhythms, of some bolero.

And it is that, among these white streets, centenary towers, millenary patios and eternal shores, today parade all kinds of characters from novels, stories, living history.

I arrived in Estepona in the middle of the crowd, like an adventurous historian with the soul of a poet, or a farmer, who enjoys putting his hands in the ground and that must have been why: I fell in love with the flowers, the million flowers in their pots and the orange blossom from the squares, giving shade to the noise of the fountains. In one of those sources, I came across a woman halfway between myth and legend: I discovered Francisca de Venegas.

She told me about her time, her sorrow, mourning for a lost daughter in Fez, about some fever, at the time of the Christian repopulation, in the 16th century, about her struggle, about her letters, about her strength. She introduced me to a cast of actors who, with the name of Manuel Sánchez Bracho as their flag, writer of the land, represented their Legends of Xeb-Alhamar, in the corners of the village.

A few steps from there, a group of poets in a small square, glass of wine in hand, recited verses under the stars. There would be a hundred: from TAW Cultural, from Balada Nómada, from Take a Wine, from Estepona, Manilva, Melilla, Marbella, Algeciras, Bilbao…

Without saying goodbye to one or the other, without having time to delight my spirit with a mouthful of salted fish, bread and olive oil from those vegas, I came face to face with a firing squad that dragged some men among a riot of women, who was struggling to save their lives, on the way to the beach.

Manzanares Estepona 1831, a group that promotes the recovery of the memory of the liberals of the 19th century and of two heroes among them: the universal Salvador Manzanares, minister of the Liberal Triennium, buried in that town, and the neighbor Pedro Manrique, who left with José María de Torrijos, to die on Malaga beaches in the name of freedom.

In the square, a house full of music and lyrics, with Daniel Casares on guitar and Alejandro Simón Partal with his novel. Casa de las Tejerinas they call it, because of its friendly owners, who generously donated it to the city in their will. There new stories are written and proclaimed.

The Passion According to Estepona, taking Jesus to a renewed Calvary, with a hundred court actors, crossing Terraza street, among the admiration of residents and visitors, with the display worthy of a great stage production.

Sculptures from Santiago de Santiago, by Joaquín Aguilera, by maestro Quiñones, by Paco Alarcón, by so many illustrious creators, I would be short if I wanted to make the list. And murals, painted on the facades: dozens of huge canvases that make this corner a great museum, a great stage for life.

Finally I sit down, I rest on the first bench I see, in the shade of some trees and some palm trees of the immense palm grove of its promenade. Only a moment. And my calm melts before a parade of paintings that are organized in the Mirador del Carmen, from the collection of Baroness Thyssen, affectionately Tita. She has also been seduced by the muses.

A music band with orchestral sounds invites me to joy, the Municipal Band and its concerts, returning from the conservatory, or the theater, always full. The culture in the street, the new creators, the bohemians, the friends. The flamencos with Rocío Bazán singing and Luisa Palicio wrapped in a sea of ​​ruffles. New voices like Ana Mena. Broken complaints by Ana Fargas, with Jimeno on guitar, breaking the silence of Pasaje Luis Rosales…

And I, in this square where, listening to the chords of maestro Bedmar, the dialogue of the strings and the night, of the palms and the tide, in front of the lyrics of the Poetry Route that record restless rhymes, I can confirm, without There is no doubt that, up to Estepona, all the muses have come to live.