Lovers of Teruel, prisoners of their smiles, are people what houses this wonderful land.
It gives off salty tears, it is euphoric rhythm, of tenderness and prestige to a land so dilated.
They are loves of summer, what their land forges, families for love left, for work they walk helpless.
Summers fill their villages, their mountains and their rivers, people return to their place, people return to where they were born.
People come out of the crowd, people are crazy, seeing that Teruel is not any city, and it becomes a unique city.
People's values are transmitted, between shouts and screams, because they are the grandparents of the town, those who have the verdict.
Being a town is madness, when believing that being a husbandman can be tenderness. Blessed be the life, blessed be the soul, blessed be the people, that to the honesty calls looking at your face.
A unique land where Chomón , Buñuel was born, and an endless number of illustrious people who give life to this wonderful land, but, What does Teruel have? ? We will discover it