Everyone tells you Es Trenc is the Caribbean of the Mediterranean. Everyone is, irritatingly, correct.
But the famous stretch — beach bars, parasols, a price tag on the sand — is only the first kilometer. Walk east, past the dunes, until the crowds thin to nothing.
The water doesn't change. It is still that absurd, lit-from-below turquoise. There are just no longer any people in it.
"The Mallorcan light is its own substance — denser, somehow, than anywhere else."
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